


Quantum Entanglement

by StarlitVesper



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Also because it's me, Because it's me, Codependency, Dib is Of Legal Age (Invader Zim), Emotional Baggage, Emotional Porn, Everyone Has Issues, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Hurts So Good, Next thing is a spoiler so you have been warned, Nightmares, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Senior Year of High School, Slow Burn, The Trial, There's probably gonna be some fucking, Touch-Starved, Trans Dib (Invader Zim), Trauma Bonding, Trauma Bonding AU, Trauma and Healing, Unhealthy Relationships, ZaDr, Zim is intersex, everyone is touch starved, or Maybe the healthiest unhealthy relationship, so don't @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitVesper/pseuds/StarlitVesper
Summary: Trauma Bonding AU where the events of The Trial don't take place until Zim's senior year in high school. Dib is frantic with worry by the time Zim finally returns to Earth and it's only made worse when Zim comes back in terrible shape. Dib finds him self taking care of his friend and as Zim becomes more reliant on Dib;s comfort to keep him grounded, he finds himself getting a little ... attached.*********************************************Check me out onTumblr,InstagramandTwitter (18+ ONLY)for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 340





	1. Distant Space

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to A LOT of Porcupine Tree while writing this, so apologies in advance.
> 
> There will be NSFW warnings before any chapter that is sexually explicit. For now the E rating is mostly for heavy themes. I always rate E out of the gate just in case.

_ My David don't you worry  
_ _ This cold world is not for you  
_ _ So rest your head upon me  
_ _ I have strength to carry you _

[ _ \-  _ Porcupine Tree _ , Lazarus _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTjc1sPktlY)

* * *

The TV blasted a steady stream of noise so inane, it had faded into the background. Motes of dust floated in the afternoon sunlight filtering through the blinds. Zim looked towards the kitchen, trying to recall when he had last eaten. He didn’t feel hungry, but he couldn’t recall what his last meal had been. Time felt strange, moving in currents that varied in speed and direction, and he was helplessly carried from one moment to the next with nothing steady to anchor himself on. 

A sudden bang from across the room sent him into a panic and he sprung off the couch, using his PAK legs to grip the cables on the ceiling, blaster pointed towards the door.

“Hello? Zim? Are you in there?”

A shadow appeared at the window and Zim retreated further into the mess of tangled wires.

“Come on in, Mary!!” GIR yelled from below.

“GIR!! No!! Don’t let them —”

The door clicked open, but it was a moment before anyone walked through.

“Don’t move!!” Zim shrieked.

"What the hell?" The figure below him moved through the door cautiously.

Zim felt like he couldn't breathe. “I said don’t move!!!”

The figure froze.

“Put your weapon down and get on the floor,” Zim commanded, trembling. He was glad his PAK was handling his own weapon  _ and  _ keeping him from crashing to the floor.

“I … I don’t have a weapon, Zim. What’s going on in here?”

The figure put their hands up slowly, and Zim quickly dropped to the floor, rolled, and kicked their legs out from under them. He pinned them to the floor, blaster suspended above them.

“Did the Tallest send you to take me back??” he screeched, body practically vibrating.

“Zim?”

“Answer me!!!”

“... Do you know where you are right now?”

Zim almost laughed, the question was so stupid. “You and I both know we’re at my base. Quit wasting my time! I should be the one asking questions!”

“Do you know what day it is?”

This caught Zim completely off guard. “It’s Tuesday,” he said flatly. It was another stupid question. Though he realized he wasn’t positive that it  _ was  _ a Tuesday.

“No … it’s Friday. Do you know how long you’ve been gone from classes?”

Zim thought for a second, trying to count up the days. “I’ve only been gone … it’s only been a couple days.”

“... You’ve been gone for over a week.”

_ That _ couldn’t be right. It certainly didn’t  _ sound _ right at all. He looked back down and jumped when he registered Dib looking up at him with concern. 

“What happened?” Zim asked, eyes wide. 

“Do you know who I am?” Dib asked patiently.

“D-Dib …” Zim whispered, frozen. Something wasn’t right. What was happening? How could he have failed to recognize Dib?

“Can you please put that blaster away before you put my out?” Dib asked cautiously, motioning upwards with his eyes as if he were leery of moving too much.

Zim quickly stowed and it moved off of Dib, who sat up slowly like he was trying to avoid startling a wild animal. Zim sunk to the floor, knees hugged to his chest. 

“It didn’t look like you … I thought it was someone else …”

Dib reached out to touch his shoulder and Zim flinched and startled backwards. Dib dropped his hand to his side quickly, watching Zim with concern. 

“What happened to you?” Dib asked softly.

Zim looked away. “I’m fine. I just had to leave Earth for a bit.”

“Zim …”

Zim buried his face in his arms. “That’s all, Dib. Why don’t you just go home?”

“You’re obviously not fine.” Dib sounded almost like he was in pain. “Have you  _ seen yourself? _ Your clothes are all torn and you’re covered in bruises and blood.”

“What are you ta—.” He looked down and stopped short. His tunic was ripped in multiple places and his leggings had a tear down the inner thigh. A gash was in the process of healing, which meant it must have happened in the last 72 hours, give or take a dozen depending on how deep it had originally been. He was missing a glove and the sole of one boot had been ripped so badly that his toes were sticking out the front.

Zim buried his head again. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You should really clean up, if nothing else ...”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Dib sighed and slowly slid over to sit next to Zim. “I don’t know if it’s too personal to ask if you want help.”

“Zim doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Zim snapped, peeking up slightly to glare at Dib.

“I don’t feel good about leaving you like this.”

“I don’t care how you feel.”  _ That  _ wasn’t true. But Zim was willing to say whatever it took just to get Dib to stop prodding him. 

“I mean I’m worried about you.”

Zim looked up, taken aback. Dib was staring at the floor, looking upset.

“You go MIA for over a week and then when you do show back up, you don’t tell me, and pull a weapon on me when I try to check up on you. Can you see why I might be worried?”

“I … I guess.” Zim felt pressure building behind his eyes and squeezed them shut. There would be no crying over this. 

“Let me help you get washed up. Your clothes look like they’re about to fall apart and if you don’t do something, your pants are going to heal into that leg wound.”

Zim cast him a suspicious look. “Is this a normal Earth friend thing?”

Dib shrugged. “Probably not? But you aren’t from earth and I’m not normal.”

He stood up slowly, kicked his shoes off, and offered Zim a hand. Zim shrunk back. Being touched sounded like absolute sensory hell at the moment. Dib retracted his hand and looked sheepish.

“Sorry … I was just trying to help.”

Zim fidgeted, his mind going to new and uncomfortable places. Somehow, Dib felt safe. Or, at least, safer than anything else did at the moment. Images of letting Dib care for him and hold him flashed in his mind’s eye, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. He looked up and held out a tentative hand. Dib smiled sadly and took it in his own, helping haul Zim to his feet.

On the couch, GIR grumbled. “I can’t see my show!!”

Zim sensed Dib bristling beside him and quickly put a hand on GIR’s head. “We’re going. Don’t worry.”

“And you were playing too loudly!” 

Zim’s breath caught in his throat and his antennae drooped. “Yeah … sorry about that. Be good and we’ll be back.”

He was still holding Dib’s hand and dragged him out of the room and up towards the second floor. He could feel Dib’s blood pressure going up.

“He doesn’t know any better, Dib,” he said sadly.

Dib made a frustrated sound. “I mean, I  _ know that  _ but still …!”

He watched as Dib silently fumed and wondered when their dynamic had shifted so severely. It felt like not too long ago, Dib had made the same face whenever Zim was so much as in the same room as him. Now Dib was fighting mad in Zim’s defense. Not to mention the fact that they regularly spent time together outside of school and Dib had started making a habit of sleeping over at Zim’s base whenever his dad was home. So much so, that Zim had converted part of the second floor into a small living space with a bed and bathroom. It was better than having Dib sprawled out on the couch every other night.

“I get it. It’s just that it never does any good to get mad at him. He doesn’t really understand other people’s emotions. It’s like trying to reason with a cat.”

Dib grunted half heartedly. “I guess it’s not like him being a little defective is new—”

Zim screeched to a halt, suddenly hyperventilating.

He was standing on a platform in front of the Control Brains, hands shackled in front of him.

“No … no no _no_ …” He tried to move backward but his legs wouldn’t listen.

“Zim!” boomed the Brains, so loudly he could feel it in his bones.

Zim cowered. “No … please …”

The crowd around him cheered, some chanting for his death. The rumble of their voices made Zim feel sick.

“Our ruling," the Brains said, quieting the rowdy masses, "is that Irken Zim’s PAK is damaged and has led to a corrupt data path.”

“I don’t mean to … I can do better!!” Was there anything he could say to put a stop to this madness?

“We thereby rule that he is …”

Zim dropped, falling to his knees for what felt like forever. 

_ Don’t say it … please!!! _

“... a _Defective_.”

How was it possible to fit so much malice and disappointment into one word?

Arms wrapped around him from behind before his knees could hit the floor and he kicked out, screeching incoherently.

“Zim!! It’s me!! Would you calm the fuck down??”

He was suddenly back on the second floor of the base. His vision swam and he couldn’t quite get his legs back under him.

Dib struggled to hold Zim up and sunk to the floor with him, swearing under his breath and trying not to tumble backwards down the stairs.

“Fuck … you’re not even that heavy but it’s hell when you’re dead weight,” Dib huffed as they both collapsed. Zim slumped in front of him, shaking slightly. He reached out and touched Zim’s shoulder. “Look, I think you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Zim turned, lip trembling, and held Dib’s gaze long enough for him to turn away, before tossing his arms around Dib’s neck, leaning his face into Dib’s shirt.

“Oh, fuck …” Dib mumbled as he froze in bewilderment. He awkwardly patted Zim on the back. “Come on … we’re five feet from the bathtub. I’ll get you cleaned up and you can explain what’s going on.”

Zim nodded and Dib helped him back up before leading him into the bathroom.

Zim went to remove his tunic and yelped as he lifted his arm up.

“Do you need help?” Dib asked with palpable concern.

“I’m fine!” Zim said defensively. “Just ... run the bath.”

“Alright, alright…” Dib ran the water and looked through the various soaps, all of which he’d brought over for the times he spent the night. Which, he was starting to realize, was really most nights. 

He dumped some lavender scented soap in and Zim scoffed behind him. 

“A bubble bath, Dib? Really? Like I’m some sort of earth smeet?”

Dib glanced over briefly, but long enough to register that Zim was fully naked. He glanced away as quickly as he could. “I thought it might maintain a semblance of privacy.”

“If you really want to do that, you should close the door,” Zim grumbled, climbing past Dib into the bath. Dib key his gaze skyward as Zim passed and pulled the door shut. 

“And lock it,” Zim added.

Dib bewildered, but did as he was asked and turned to find Zim wincing as he lowered himself into the hot water. Dib snagged a washcloth and sat down to start cleaning some of the blood from Zim’s back.

Zim spun around on contact. “What are you doing??”

Dib held his hands up innocently. “I said I was going to help get you cleaned up.”

Zim looked away and slouched back down in the water. “Fine. But don’t make it weird.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dib said evenly as he set to work. “So … are you going to explain to me what's going on?”

He felt Zim stiffen and shudder, antennae quivering.

“I … I didn’t leave,” Zim murmured, small and high. “I was kidnapped. The Tallest … tried to kill me.”

Dib faltered a moment. “What? Why?? You haven’t talked to them in a long time, right?”

“Right,” Zim said, absently cleaning blood and dirt from his leg. “But they were planning another wave of invasions and didn’t want to take the chance that I’d find out and fuck that one up, too. So they called an Existence Evaluation …”

Zim trailed off as Dib washed his shoulders and tried to avoid aggravating any of the dark, angry bruises.

“What’s an Existence Evaluation?” he asked softly.

“It’s a trial … for Irkens who start going against standard programming. If they try you and end up declaring you …” He stopped, searching for different phrasing. He took a few deep breaths and slowly let them out before continuing. “... If they decide you’ve got damaged data, they'll take your PAK, delete it, and … that’s it.” He stirred his finger in the water, spinning the bubbles.“I failed the Evaluation,” he said, scarcely audible. “I was supposed to be killed. I escaped. But only just barely.”

He looked up and Dib gently rubbed at a spot on his cheek.

“Who did all this to you?” Dib asked. There was a sort of quiet, unspoken rage boiling just under his words. 

Zim squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don’t make me try to remember the details … every time my brain goes back there, I can’t tell what’s real anymore.” His voice was breaking and he felt small and emotionally exposed. He grabbed Dib’s hand and pressed his face into it. “I don’t want to hurt you, Dib. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but … I can’t make it stop.”

Dib froze, awkwardly pretending he didn’t see the tears rolling down Zim’s cheeks. 

“Do you … um … have you ever heard of PTSD?” Dib asked, looking away. He wasn't quite sure what to do about Zim suddenly having all these new emotions at him.

Zim shook his head, finally releasing Dib’s hand. Dib cautiously returned to delicately washing the grime from Zim’s body, just to have something with which to occupy himself. How had he never noticed how small and delicate Zim was?

“Sometimes when you live through something awful … your brain just can’t process it,” Dib said, half expecting Zim to launch into his tirade about how maybe puny  _ human _ brains were that delicate … But Zim was uncharacteristically quiet, lifting water out of the bath in cupped hands and watching it filter through his fingers.

“It’s almost like part of your brain is stuck living that trauma on a loop,” Dib continued. “You can’t move past it. And it creeps into every area of your life and makes you nervous and irritable and reactive … Little things bring you back to that moment and make it hard to tell what’s real and what's just a memory.”

Zim looked up, round ruby eyes ringed with concern. Dib found himself gently reaching up and brushing a remaining streak of blood from Zim’s cheek.

“That sounds awful,” Zim whispered, still holding his gaze.

“Yeah, it’s … it’s not great,” Dib agreed, just as softly.

A sudden knock at the door startled Dib, and before he could react, Zim shot to the ceiling with his PAK legs beneath him, sending Dib sprawling backwards in a sudden lavender-scented tidal wave, hitting his head hard enough to see stars for a moment.

“We’re outta taquitos!!” GIR yelled from the other side of the door, making Dib's head sting. “You were gone so long, I ate them all and now you gotta get more!”

Dib groaned, gingerly sitting up. When Zim didn’t immediately offer an answer, Dib shouted back through the door. 

“We’ll be out in a minute! Just be patient … Jesus Ch—” 

He glanced up and saw Zim trembling in the corner of the ceiling like a cornered spider, legs spread wide and braced against the walls. Dib stared for a moment too long before he realized he was being incredibly rude.

“Oh geez …” he turned around, face burning, and grabbed a towel. “Would you get down here and take this, please? It’s just GIR.”

Zim slowly lowered himself down, splashing in the remaining few inches of water. He stepped out, took the towel, and wrapped it around himself before sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

Dib looked at his own sodden clothes, then to Zim’s shivering form and faraway stare. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be miffed at Zim for splashing him and he certainly wasn’t about to kick his terrified friend out just so he could strip down. 

“I need to get out of these … just don’t look, okay?”

Zim buried his face in his arms and Dib quickly pulled off his dripping clothing and tied a towel around himself.

“Alright.  C’mon …” He extended a hand down to Zim, who looked up, visibly trembling.

“I’m just going to sit here … I don’t feel well …” Zim said morosely.

Dib sighed. “You’re going to feel worse if you don’t get into some dry clothes.”

Zim just hung his head. Dib let his arm drop back to his side. He’d never seen Zim look so utterly defeated.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Dib asked, uncertain if he was violating a boundary. 

Zim shrugged noncommittally. 

Dib sighed. “Let me put it this way … are you going to puke on me or something if I _do_ try and carry you?”

Zim looked up and gave him a withering look this time. 

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” Dib said, bending down beside him, putting one arm behind his back and the other under his knees. “Up you go, space boy …”

It was small, but Dib caught the bemused huff and tiny smirk on Zim’s face before he turned away as he was hoisted up. “When you’re not flopping around, you’re not very difficult to carry at all,” Dib remarked, shifting Zim as he opened the door. He carried Zim across the room and set him on the bed. “I’ve got no clue where you keep your things, but I’m sure I’ve got something that will fit you …”

He rifled through his drawers, noticing for the first time exactly how much stuff he was keeping at Zim’s base. Somehow, he’d managed to outgrow a decent number of the items in one drawer alone. He tossed a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants onto the bed for Zim, and pulled out something equally slouchy for himself.

“Do you want me to go get food?” Dib asked as he pulled on a shirt. “It sounded like you’re totally out …”

“Don’t leave me here,” Zim squeaked out desperately. 

Dib pulled the rest of his clothes on, finally turning around to see Zim looking absolutely tiny in his borrowed clothes. 

“I mean … you haven't eaten in a while, right?” Dib asked.

“Food … sleep … I haven’t had either in around a week …” Zim mumbled. “I just don’t want to be alone right now …”

Dib ran through the options in his head. Delivery seemed like a poor option unless Zim suddenly stopped being so jumpy whenever someone came to the door. “How about I take you to that deli you love so much, get you about ten sandwiches, and pick GIR up a couple pizzas? Do you think you’ll be okay in the car?”

Zim bit his lip, uncertain, then slowly slid from the bed, wobbling. “It’s better than being alone or starving.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dib turned towards the stairs, Zim trailing just behind him.

GIR was in his usual spot as they passed, sucking on … something.

“Whatcha got there?” Dib asked, having a feeling he’d live to regret asking.

GIR shrugged innocently and pulled whatever it was out of his mouth, which strangely did nothing to make it more identifiable. “Dunno! I found it in the couch!”

Dib winced inwardly. “ _Ugh_ … we’re going to pick up dinner. Pizza and sandwiches. Wanna come?”

GIR stuffed his mystery snack back in his mouth and shook his head. 

“Alright. Put in the order for whatever you want at the pizza place now so it’ll be done by the time we get there. And be good while we’re gone,” Dib said, pulling on his shoes. It briefly occurred to him that he may have become too comfortable in Zim’s home. He’d kicked his shoes off at the door in the middle of a crisis, somehow hoarded three years' worth of clothes upstairs, and now he was giving GIR a parting admonishment as if he were a younger sibling. He turned the door handle and looked behind him.

“Uh, Zim?”

“Hm?” Zim looked up but his gaze seemed unfocused.

“You’re missing some things…”

Zim looked down. “Oh. Socks. That’s right …”

“And shoes? And maybe your wig and contacts?”

Zim groaned. “Shoes are cages for feet and the other two are scratchy,” he whined. “Everything already feels close and awful.” He'd normally be more concerned but in light of everything he'd experienced, being outed as an alien felt like the least of his worries. Not to mention, nothing felt even remotely real at the moment, anyway.

Dib tried not to sigh too loudly as he kicked his shoes off, then pulled off his socks and handed them to Zim. 

“Put those on, contacts are non negotiable, and then just make sure to cover your head with this.” He grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and draped it over Zim, then shuffled his shoes back on. “And you’ll just have to stay in the car while I order. And put up with being carried.”

He whisked Zim’s legs out from under him and hoisted him up. Zim was quiet and just snuggled against his chest.

“I’m honestly shocked that you’re not fighting me,” Dib said as he shifted Zim to open the door. 

“Maybe I like being carried sometimes,” Zim mumbled from under his chin. Zim’s face was hooded by the blanket, his sock feet sticking out below the hem.

Dib thought it was fitting that a full moon hung in the sky as he took in the late-spring breeze dancing across his skin. He opened the passenger door and carefully set Zim inside before walking around to the driver’s side and starting the car. Zim sat leaned against the door, looking up at the sky as Dib rolled down the windows and toggled the volume before pulling up a playlist on his phone. Dib then handed the phone over to Zim.

“It’s on shuffle. Pick something off there to start with,” he said as he put the car in gear, rolling out of Zim’s cul-de-sac.

For a moment, only the purr of the engine and the crackle of stereo static over the breeze could be heard. Then the gentle strum of a guitar softly lilted through the cab of Dib’s ancient Honda Fit.

_ “Train set and match spied under the blind,  
_ _ Shiny and contoured the railway winds…” _

Dib smiled, tapping out the beat on the steering wheel before up-shifting in one fluid motion. He rolled his window down a bit further and turned up the volume, singing just under the music. 

_ “Always the summers are slipping away,  
_ _ Find me a way for making it stay...” _

He could hear Zim singing beside him, their voices melding into something high and soft and light that carried on the wind.

“Do you remember the first time you played me this?” Zim asked.

“Hard to forget,” Dib said with a wry smile.

It was the summer four years back, when they’d had a three week heatwave that had broken the air conditioning at Dib’s house. While his dad was gone on a month long business trip, no less. Gaz had fucked off to a friend’s house, leaving Dib to fend for himself. He’d gone to start a fight with Zim for lack of anything better to do and ended up passing out from a combination of dehydration and exhaustion on Zim’s lawn.

When he woke up, he was on Zim’s couch, hooked up to an IV drip, with a cold cloth on his head. He recalled being ready to yank the port out and run when he noticed Zim, sitting on the arm of the couch watching him. He could remember the exact admonishment Zim had given him, eyeing him cautiously from five feet away:

“Don’t you dare rip that out. I worked hard to bring you back from the brink of death.”

That had been the start of a tenuous friendship. Zim had patched Dib up better than any hospital and while Dib was still too woozy and nauseated to even sit up, Zim had started “studying” him. Verbally prodding his brain, trying to do — what he internally justified as — a little opportune research on his nemesis. But Zim found himself slowly giving away small details as Dib sat reclined, sipping a lemonade and querying right back.

Somewhere under eternal the glow of a late summer sun, they finally found a little common ground. Zim asked Dib about earth candies. Dib asked Zim about music. And when Zim finally admitted to being partial to anything acoustic, Dib had pulled up Porcupine Tree’s  _ Trains _ . 

“I came over to start a fight that day, you know,” Dib admitted, turning the music down slightly.

Zim chuckled. “I know. You were barely coherent when I went to peel you off the lawn but you  _ did _ try to take a couple swings at me.”

“And you still didn’t leave me there,” Dib mused. “I could never understand what possessed you to bring me inside.”

Zim pulled his feet up onto the seat and crossed his legs, hugging the blanket around himself. “I was just tired, I suppose. Of always fighting and screaming at each other. I had been planning to ask you to join me in taking over your filthy excuse for a planet … and then you face planted into my lawn. That would have been a poor waste of either a good nemesis or ally.” Zim leaned the seat back and looked out the window at a sky full of stars. “It’s been good having you as a friend,” he said earnestly. 

“You too,” Dib said with a quick glance sideways. “I really don’t know what I would have done without you these past few years. I don't think I would have ended up sticking around, if not for you.”

Zim put his feet up on the dash, nervously curling and uncurling his toes.

“I’m not holding out on you, you know,” he said softly. “I just want to make sure my technique is perfect before I do it on you. The way human nerve endings are … I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“It’s fine. I can be patient a little longer.”

They finally rolled up to the plaza and Dib dialed his music back to an appropriate level. 

“Want me to leave the stereo on for you?” Dib asked.

“No, I’m coming in.”

Dib gave Zim a bewildered look. “You don’t have any shoes and you literally look like the poster for ET right now.”

“I want the free froyo,” Zim whined. “I’ll cover my head and you can just carry me on your back.”

Dib raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve had a hard day, Dib.”

“And free deli froyo is what would make it better?”

Zim nodded, eyes wide and sparkling in a way he hoped was disarming.

Dib rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, walking around to Zim’s door.

“Alright, dummy. Get on.”

Zim climbed up, arms hidden under the blanket as he held on to Dib’s shoulders. The restaurant was mercifully quiet for a Friday night. Dib put in their orders — ignoring the strange looks casually thrown their way — and then carried Zim over to the far end of the dining area. No one else was so far back, so he let Zim slide down and proceed to fill two small ice cream cups a foot tall with vanilla chocolate swirl. They set up at a nearby table, Zim still covered from head to toe and looking like a gremlin.

“Any better?” Dib asked as Zim slurped down the first tower of froyo and licked the bowl clean.

“It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted,” Zim mumbled through his first bite of the second towering frozen treat. 

Dib stood up and filled two more bowls for him. “You ordered enough sandwiches to clear these guys out so I hope you’re still going to be hungry after all this.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Zim replied with mock offense, peeking out from under his hood to flash Dib a smile. He set a hand on Dib’s leg as he tucked into the bowls Dib had brought over.

Dib looked at Zim’s hand, head cocked. It was a good deal more familiar than Zim tended to be but then again, Zim had been gradually more and more clingy ever since Dib talked him down from his initial flashback.

Dib moved his own hand closer, contemplating the distance between them, the space between their fingers, wondering how they might fit —

“Ma’am?”

Dib looked up, spell broken. One of the staff behind the counter was pointing to a large bag, looking like she’d been attempting to get Dib’s attention for a while.

“What, me?” Dib said, standing up, looking bewildered. That usually got the point across.

“Oh, sir! Wow, I’m really sorry about that,” the employee stuttered, looking mortified.

Dib laughed it off. “Happens a lot, you’re fine. Thanks.”

He hurried to collect Zim before he could decide he wanted a third course of froyo.

“Well, we can never go back there,” Dib said as they stepped out into the night. 

Zim’s head popped over his shoulder, still shrouded in layers of fabric. “What? No! That’s my favorite shop! I can just wipe her memory —”

“Pfft! Not because of that. You’d have to wipe half the town’s memory. I meant because of you, you fucking weirdo.”

“Me?” Zim asked as Dib attempted to balance him and the bag to open the door. Zim reached down and pulled it open for him. “No one was even looking!”

“How could you tell?? Your head was covered the whole time.”

“Well, no one said anything!” Zim countered, dropping into the seat and taking the bag from Dib. 

Dib pulled the blanket further down his face with a laugh. “Stay hidden and I’ll be right back.”

Zim looked up to shoot him an alarmed look. 

“You can see right through the window from here. I’ll never even be out of sight,” Dib reassured him. 

“Alright,” Zim said skeptically as Dib handed him the keys.

“Roll down the windows and just enjoy yourself for a minute,” Dib said before shutting the door and walking off. 

Zim put the keys in the ignition and leaned over to put the windows down. The stereo was still tethered to Dib’s phone and soft music filtered into the ambient noise of other vehicles and the natural nighttime chorus.

Being alone with his thoughts wasn’t quite what Zim wanted at the moment. He didn’t want to think about how good — how  _ safe  _ — it felt whenever Dib touched him or held him. He thought back to the gentle way Dib had washed him, the almost loving way Dib picked him up and toted him around. It had awoken in Zim a desire … maybe even a need … to be cared for. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when Dib inevitably went home and Zim was alone with himself and his thoughts and the memories that he was desperately trying to push away. Maybe he could find a way to keep Dib around for just a little longer —

“Hold, please!” Dib sang, suddenly appearing just outside the car, shoving a stack of pizza boxes through Zim’s window and startling him slightly. Dib suddenly looked sheepish. “I’m so sorry … I forgot you’re on high alert right now…”

Zim shook his head and took the boxes. “That time it wasn’t bad. I’m just upset you’re going to set this in my lap and not let me eat it on the way …”

They returned back to Zim’s base, Dib carrying Zim over the threshold before dumping him back onto his feet.

“Pizza!” GIR squealed, running full throttle at Zim, who held the stack up.

“Ask  _ nicely _ , GIR,” Zim admonished.

“Pizza … pleaseandthankyou?” GIR said with a hopeful smile.

“Eh, Good enough.” Zim handed him all the boxes except one.

“Hey!  _ My _ pizza.”

Zim stuck his tongue out as he dodged out of the way of GIR’s grabby hands. “Finders fee! One box is mine. Go enjoy the other four.”

Zim headed for the stairs and Dib kicked his shoes off and jogged after him. “We’re not eating down here?”

“I can’t choose what GIR’s gonna put on so … I’d rather just go upstairs,” Zim whispered through gritted teeth.

They made their way to the second floor, flopping onto Dib’s bed and divvying up the food.

“So … when are you planning on leaving?” Zim asked cautiously as he unwrapped a sandwich.

Dib raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Why would I be leaving?”

“I mean, your dad’s gone, right? So you don’t have a reason to stay here …”

“Yeah, I do,” Dib said, as if it were obvious.

Zim looked up, one antenna perked inquisitively. “Eh?”

“If I leave, who’s going to make sure you don’t lose it next time a car backfires?” Dib asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“I’m probably just going to be sleeping for the next 24 hours,” Zim said, suddenly uncertain. Now that Dib was offering, he felt the need to deflect.

“And what happens if you get nailed with a flashback while you’re sleeping?” Dib pointed out.

Zim turned and gave him a searching look. “What happens if you can’t snap me out of it before I do something awful?” he countered.

Dib shrugged. “I don’t think you would.”

Zim’s antennae flattened back against his neck. “I pulled a weapon on you, Dib. And you don’t even know what exactly happened to me … How are you going to help?”

“I’ve managed to talk you down twice despite that,” Dib said softly, putting a hand on his back. “I’m just trying to be here for you. And I won’t be able to sleep at home knowing you’re dealing with things alone.”

“Oh, alright. If you insist,” Zim said, hoping the relief in his voice wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was. Before he could think too much on that, he pulled his tablet out and propped it up on the bed. “Here. Pick something to watch. My brain needs a vacation.”

Over the course of an hour-long cartoon binge-watching session, Zim somehow managed to inhale most of the food on his own. By the time they finally began settling in for the night, he was feeling fat and content. An upgrade from just a few hours prior.

“You should just sleep up here. It’ll be easier to prevent things from triggering you,” Dib said.

A strange feeling fluttered around Zim’s guts, and it wasn’t wholly unbearable. “If that’s what you want,” he replied, trying to sound as if he didn’t care either way. He slid between the covers and snuggled in.

“You look like you wouldn’t make it downstairs anyway,” Dib remarked with a chuckle as he climbed under the covers on the other side of the bed. 

“Mm … yeah, it’s the cheese coma,” Zim yawned.

Dib turned off the lights and settled in. Zim watched as Dib closed his eyes, and was painfully aware of the space between them. Just inches away, Dib smelled like warmth and comfort and Zim wanted it. He slowly inched forward.  He would just get a little closer. Not touching. Nothing that would freak Dib out. Just close enough that Zim would maybe, somehow end up with Dib’s arm over him at some point. That could be explained easily enough, right? Maybe Dib would just pull him closer in his sleep. Because  _ Dib  _ needed someone. Not because  _ Zim _ did. _Of course_ Zim didn’t need anyone. He would be _perfectly fine_ on his —

Dib’s eyes shot open and he gave Zim a bewildered look.  “Uh, can I help you?”

Zim shrunk back, unsure how to backpedal.

Dib smiled slightly, gaze softening. “Look, Zim, if you want a hug or something, all you have to do is ask,” he said, motioning Zim over.

Zim practically shot into Dib’s embrace, hating himself a little for not having just an iota more restraint.

“It’s not weird?” he mumbled into Dib’s chest.

“I’m not gonna lie … it’s a little different,” Dib admitted as he held Zim close. “I keep expecting there to be a catch or something. Plus it’s just weird to have  _ anyone  _ up in my chest like that …”

“You’re comfy,” Zim mumbled.

“Oh fine … you’re the one who’s going to be lopping them off eventually. May as well get acquainted, I guess.”

“Don’t call it ‘lopping’!” Zim said, offended. “I haven’t spent the last six months studying human anatomy and surgical techniques for you to degrade my  _ art  _ like that.”

“Shhhhh,” Dib said, petting his head in a deliberately irritating fashion. “I know. And I’m grateful.” He hugged Zim close. “I’m _genuinely_ grateful. You’re a good friend.”

Dib moved his hand downwards, inadvertently brushing Zim’s antenna. A sudden, warbling chirp took them both by surprise. 

Dib regarded Zim with about seven separate bewildered looks before he found his words. “Did you just—?”

“I don’t know _what_ that was,” Zim stammered, seemingly more shocked than Dib.

“Well … Was it a good noise or a bad noise?” Dib asked, looking at Zim in a way that made him feel like he was being studied.

“It wasn’t  _ bad _ ,” Zim offered timidly. He shimmied forwards against Dib, who gently rubbed his back. 

“You’re weird,” Dib said, heaving a sigh. “But I’m definitely learning more about you by being your friend than I ever did when I was trying to stop you from taking over earth.”

Little chirps proceeded to burble up from Zim’s throat and he let them. If nothing else, Dib seemed amused by the response.

“I never would have learned that you sing like a cricket if I’d had you up on the autopsy table,” Dib said with a smirk.

“Do you always have to be that dark?” Zim complained. “This is why you’ve got no friends.”

“Nah. It’s why  _ you’re  _ my only friend,” Dib corrected him. “You’re the only one who gets me.”

Zim patted his shoulder. “Most of the time.” He snuggled in, still chirping softly.

“That sound is gonna knock me right out,” Dib yawned. “Sounds like summer … and I’m just glad you’re … content and all …”

Zim wanted for Dib to continue, but all he got was a soft snore as Dib relaxed against him, head lolling to the side and resting on the top of Zim’s own. Zim let out a sigh of relief, snuggled in, and quietly attempted to ignore the tingling between his legs. 


	2. Seen & Heard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Digging in deeper on Zim's trauma, plus a flashback to some of Dib's trauma. It's two-for-one trauma!
> 
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/starlitvesper/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for suicide attempt

_No don't give up on me_  
_I'm not how I seem_  
_Oh take a look inside_  
_'Cause I'm not fine_

[\- Me Not You, _I'm Not Fine_](https://menotyou.bandcamp.com/track/not-fine)

* * *

A blood-chilling screech right next Dib’s ear shocked him out of a deep sleep and before he could even get his bearings, he was pinned down against the bed.

“You can’t do this!! I’ll fucking kill you!!” Zim screeched, looking crazed.

Dib had to stop himself from cursing and knocking Zim aside. “Zim … it’s just Dib. You’re alright. Do you know where you are?” he asked calmly, even though he felt anything but. He was breathing quick and shallow, trying not to piss himself when he realized Zim had his blaster out again. Luckily, at the sound of Dib's voice, Zim's face shifted from rage to bewilderment.

“Dib? You’re not supposed to be …?” Zim looked gradually more and more confused. “This … isn’t Judgementia …?”

“You’re on Earth. In your base,” Dib explained gently. “I’m spending the night with you, remember?”

“I’m home?”

“You’re home. You’re safe,” Dib reassured him. “I’m gonna need you to put the gun away, alright?”

Zim stowed his blaster, suddenly looking concerned. He climbed off Dib, avoiding eye contact.

“Zim …”

Zim didn’t react. Instead, he slowly sunk down onto the bed, rolling so that he was facing the far wall and Dib was left staring at his back. Dib watched as Zim’s body shook for a moment before the audible sobbing hit. He’d never heard another person make such pitiful, guttural noises before and it hit him directly in the heart. He put an arm around Zim and laid behind him, resting his head against Zim’s shoulder. He squinted at the clock across the room, which told him that they’d only been asleep for a little over an hour. Poor Zim was probably exhausted out of his mind.

“I’m here if you want to talk about anything,” Dib said, feeling powerless to help as Zim just clung to his arm.

“I don’t want to have to think about it again,” Zim sobbed, surprising Dib by abruptly rolling over and pressing his face into Dib’s shirt. “I hate this … there’s no point in sleeping! I’m just going to wake up every hour and then you won’t sleep and maybe you should just go home before you end up hating me.”

“I’m not going to end up hating you,” Dib murmured, hugging him. Hate was the furthest thing from his mind. He tried to ignore how good it felt to hold Zim close. Right now needed to be about Zim’s needs, not his own desperate, touch-starved desires. “I’ll do this as many times as I need to. Just try to go back to sleep…”

“I don’t want to,” Zim sniffled into his shirt. “I don’t want to keep reliving the same five minutes over and over. Reminding me I’m broken…”

“You’re not broken,” Dib said, wanting to reach up and stroke Zim’s cheek as he said it.

Zim took a few shaking breaths.

“I am, though,” he mumbled. “That’s … that’s what the entire Existence Evaluation was about. And when they tried to delete my PAK … it was like a virus ripped through the Control Brains. The power blew for half the planet.” He looked up, expression dark. “I’m so broken that anything that gets near me gets broken too.”

“Not true. I’ve been close with you for, what, like three years, at this point?” Dib said, snuggling him. “And I’m not any more broken than I was before..”

He lightly stroked Zim’s back until the little alien relaxed against him breathing evenly.

“I still don’t want to go back to sleep,” Zim mumbled unhappily into Dib’s shirt.

“Pull your tablet out again. Let’s just watch something for a bit, try to take your mind off things.”

Zim pulled it out and propped up on the pillows before pressing back against Dib, glancing back to make sure what he was doing was okay. Dib put an arm around him, once again feeling that soft amber glow in his heart that he couldn’t quite name. Being this close to Zim somehow felt good and safe in ways that he wasn't at all used to.

“Hey, um …” Dib mumbled in Zim’s shoulder. “I don’t want to make this weird, and I’m sorry that this is happening because you’re not doing well … but I like this dynamic.”

Zim perked an antenna at him. “Eh?”

“I like that you’re letting me be close,” Dib whispered. “It’s nice.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he mentally kicked himself. Just because his emotions were running haywire -- from mere _proximity_ , of all things -- didn't mean he had to make things awkward for his friend.

“Oh. Yeah,” Zim said, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s … it’s not bad.”

Zim’s PAK was warm against Dib’s chest, somehow producing enough heat to penetrate through two layers of clothing. Dib lay with his arm folded in front of him and he was peripherally aware of Zim slowly sinking downwards, catching himself momentarily before he slumped down again, until his head was resting on top of it.

“Sleepy yet?” Dib asked. Zim looked so delicate and vulnerable as he started to doze off.

“Hm? Oh … yeah, maybe,” Zim mumbled, suddenly opening his eyes but not seeming to focus on anything.

“I’ll be awake for a while. Don’t worry.”

Dib split his attention between the show and Zim, whose eyes were closing for longer and longer before he finally drifted off to sleep. He was completely relaxed, laying heavily on Dib’s arm, which had long since gone totally numb. Dib took a moment to study Zim in a way he’d never thought to before. Zim’s shirt had ridden halfway up his back, exposing his hips and the way that he’d rolled the waistband of his sweats up about three or four times. Zim was incredibly slender and willowy, from his small waist to his skinny wrists. His mouth was hanging slightly open as he snored, and for the first time, Dib noticed all the freckles in varying shades of green dusting Zim’s face. He never would have thought to call Zim “cute”, but up close, something about him was inexplicably adorable.

Actually, forget Zim — Dib had never thought of _anyone_ that way before. Was this really all it took? Someone being a little needy, and he suddenly turned into a hopeless romantic? There were a number of reasons why _that_ concerned him …

In front of him, Zim shifted and whined, antennae quivering.

“You’re okay … I’ve got you,” Dib whispered, gently hugging him. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you, Zim. You’re safe.”

Dib watched as Zim's body relaxed in his embrace, and a million little wants flashed in his brain.

Holding Zim. Kissing Zim. Maybe even making passionate love to--

No. _No._ He wouldn't let his mind go there. The line between the affection he was giving and the affection he wanted to give was already so fine. He wasn't even sure that he was doing "friendship" right at this point. Was cuddling like this normal for friends? Dib really had no idea. Zim was the only one Dib had ever been close with, and he’d historically been pretty leery of any sort of contact. Now it seemed to be the only thing he wanted. He’d already settled back into a serene slumber, cuddled against Dib’s body.

More than anything, the threat of rejection made Dib leery of initiating anything further than what Zim was currently allowing. He would just have to let Zim lead on what was acceptable, then stay within those bounds. And if it left Dib pining? Well, that was at least better than fucking up the one good thing in his life just because he couldn't read social cues for shit.

Dib slept lightly the rest of the night, waking up if Zim fidgeted or whimpered, whispering soft reassurance to him until he was peaceful and quiet again. When the sun finally filtered into the room, Dib was exhausted and half asleep. He started to move into a more comfortable position, but realized that over the course of the night, Zim had slowly shifted until his head rested just under Dib’s chin and he had a fistful of Dib’s shirt clutched in his hand.

While Dib was watching, an unsettled expression crossed Zim’s face and he whined softly, curling inwards towards Dib. There was that warm little flutter again, urging him to hold Zim closer and whisper sweetly to him and —

Zim jumped, eyes shooting open. He sat up slightly and looked around, bewildered, before finally collapsing back against the mattress. “Earth. My base. Your bedroom. And it’s a Saturday,” he mumbled before glancing in Dib’s direction. “Am I right?”

“Look at you, doing grounding exercises yourself,” Dib said with a genuine smile. “What do you even need me for?”

Zim shrunk, looking embarrassed. “I don’t _need you_ …”

“Oh, well, I’ll just be going, then.”

He was about to sit up when Zim’s hand closed around his wrist.

“Dib …”

Dib turned to see Zim giving him an expression that tugged on every one of his heartstrings. He sat up and Zim slunk into his lap, arms around his neck. Dib hugged him, chin over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t actually going to leave, you know,” he said gently.

“But you’ll have to eventually,” Zim mumbled sadly. “I hate being like this … and I hate needing people.”

Dib felt the need to do something reassuring as Zim sulked on his lap, and without thinking, he reached up and pet Zim’s antennae in the same way that one might stroke another person’s hair. He felt Zim abruptly relax, breathing deep and even, just before an unexpected rumble rattled his thin frame.

Was Zim ... purring? That was new. Although, Dib had to admit that a lot of things in the past day were new. This was perhaps the least-weird new thing that had happened so far. Dib almost commented on it, but opted to say nothing, allowing Zim to rest heavily on his shoulder.

He didn’t want to tell Zim that he had no intentions of going anywhere. He could only keep playing it off as a friendly gesture for so much longer. Being touched and hugged and clung to and snuggled with was gradually filling deep holes of need that Dib hadn’t even been aware existed. And the more attention Zim gave him, the more Dib found his thoughts wandering to places they had no business being. Like how he would happily be everything Zim needed, comfort him when he startled awake at least once an hour every night for the rest of eternity, if that meant he was guaranteed love. A vulnerable Zim was one who wouldn’t — couldn’t — abandon him. Unlike everyone else in his life.

It wouldn’t be an entirely unequal partnership, either. After all, didn't Dib need Zim just a little bit, too? He couldn’t name someone he trusted more for top surgery. Depending on how things went, he might even let Zim do the honors of performing his bottom surgery, as well. Zim had medical skills. Dib was preternaturally good at talking Zim down during a PTSD episode. If they both had things to bring to the table; what could be so wrong about that?

Dib had sunk so deeply into thought that his hand slowed, reaching the end of Zim’s antenna and rubbing it absent-mindedly. Zim gradually stirred, his purr catching in his throat. He looked around, appearing blearier than he had upon waking up. He forced his eyes to focus and then gave Dib an accusing look. 

“What did you do to me??” he demanded, an edge of panic in his voice.

“What? I didn’t do anything! I was just … kind of petting you, and you zoned out all of a sudden,” Dib explained, starting to feel like he’d stumbled upon something private.

Zim moved away, looking conflicted. “Well … just don’t do it again! I don’t put my fingers all up in your hair. How would you like that??”

Dib thought that this might not be the best time to admit that he would like that _very much_. 

“Alright, sorry. You sounded like you were enjoying yourself. My apologies.” He flopped back against the bed. “So, about your food situation … are you up for grocery shopping?”

Zim groaned. “You’re making me choose between being alone and going out in public _again?_ ”

“Kind of a necessary evil if you want food,” Dib replied. “I know I’d like breakfast.”

Zim sighed. “And GIR’s going to start screaming soon if I don’t buy more of the three things he’ll actually eat. I’m just —” He suddenly stopped himself.

“You’re just what?”

Reflex prevented Zim from admitting he was anything other than perfectly confident. But he’d already let Dib see him in such a vulnerable state, he had to ask himself if that was really a valid concern anymore. He rolled over to face Dib. “Scared …” he replied softly. “I’m just scared.” He pulled his knees to his chest. “If I stay here, you coming back might startle me like it did yesterday. But if I go with you … well, you know I’m already nervous around humans as it is.”

Dib sat thoughtfully, trying to ignore the impulse to pull Zim into a hug. He didn’t want to scare him off with too much close contact after possibly having committed a cultural faux-pas with the antenna-stroking. So much for not going too far. “Have you still got the hat I gave you last Christmas? The noise-cancelling one with the speakers?”

Dib had been determined to give Zim the joy of listening to high quality music at top volume while blocking out the outside world, which was easier said than done when dealing with foot-long antennae. He’d developed a noise-cancelling beanie that Zim had initially written off as “fashionably tasteless”, but it certainly did exactly what it said on the tin. 

Zim perked an antenna. “Yes? Why?”

“Noise seems to set you off more than anything. So just put that on while we’re out and you should be fine.”

“But what if you startle me because I can’t hear you?” Zim asked nervously. 

“You’ll just have to hold on to me while we’re out,” Dib said with a shrug. “Or I could put you in the cart, I guess …”

“Like a smeet??” Zim asked, offended.

“I’ve seen people do it with their friends all the time,” Dib assured him. “As long as you own it and enjoy yourself, I don’t see why anyone would judge you.”

Zim shifted nervously and whined. “Alright. Fine," he eventually grumbled. "I’ll do it for GIR. And to spare your eardrums from the tantrum he’s going to throw if we go another day without food.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dib said brightly as he slid off the bed. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute. I’m guessing you don’t need my help to get dressed.”

Zim rolled off the mattress and made his way towards the door, looking back for a moment. Need help? Of course he didn’t _need help,_ but he wouldn’t have said no to some company. He had to admit that he and Dib had been getting progressively more comfortable around each other for a while now, though Zim had attempted to keep some barriers up. Just in case. But now that he was officially no longer an Invader, there was no need for pretense, no longer the little voice in the back of his head telling him that he might get a second wind and give this whole “taking over the world” thing one more try, with a little more gusto. That little voice was gone and with it, Zim felt, a large piece of himself.

He wasn't sure what was scarier; the fact that so much of himself was wrapped up in the identity of "Invader", or the fact that the only thing making him feel even remotely whole was being in Dib's arms.

He wasn’t quite sure what this meant for himself and Dib, however. He’d felt himself falling for the human for a while now, having spent too many nights pining away while watching sappy romance movies with GIR and, more recently, exercising restraint when their classmates flirted with Dib. As much as he wanted to toss Gretchen and Keef into the lockers in the abandoned wing of the school, it was probably a bad look. Besides, Dib never seemed particularly interested in returning their affections.

Zim made his way down to his closet — or rather, the large room where he kept all of his disguises, almost a decade’s worth of changing fashion, and …

His heart caught in his throat.

Years ago, the multitude of pink and magenta tunics would have brought him unfettered pride and joy. In recent years, they’d reminded him that he might _eventually_ get around to conquering the earth. 

Maybe.

Eventually.

Meh.

... But now?

Images of being held down, drugged into complacence, and stripped suddenly crashed into his mind like a tidal wave. He could vividly recall what he was wearing when he was kidnapped and the thoughts that flitted through his head as those clothes were ripped from his body. Other parts were dark, distant, and distorted. He felt like was watching someone else being forcibly stuffed into that awful uniform. 

_You want to be an Invader, Zim?_

He didn’t; not anymore. And he’d told them as much, over and over, about how he had given up and just wanted to be marooned on earth now, but they _just wouldn’t listen_.

_Let’s see how much of an Invader all of Irk thinks you are._

He hadn’t worn the uniform in years — he’d given up on everything it stood for! If they would just let him _go home_ …

_You’ve made a mockery of everything this uniform stands for, Zim!!_

“I’m not an Invader anymore!!! I haven't bothered you in years!!! Why can't you ... why won't you just ...!”

“Zim??”

He looked up to see Dib sprinting over. He hadn’t even heard the elevator come down.

“What’s wrong??”

It took a moment for Zim to remember how to make his mouth form words. “I can’t … I don’t … Fuck!! It’s stupid …”

Even as he said that, he couldn’t stop feeling like he was in danger. He knew where he was, but his brain was still searching for a threat and he couldn’t stop replaying the images in his head.

Dib sat beside him and put an arm over his shoulder. “Not stupid to me.”

Zim leaned against him, taking in his scent and focusing on it until it was the only thing on his mind. He shifted, paying attention to all the little ways his body touched Dib's, and letting the beat of Dib's heart drown out all other sounds.

“Before my Trial," Zim started softly, "they put me in my old uniform … to mock me. And seeing the closet full of them hanging up …” He clenched his fists in his lap. “I want to burn them, Dib. I never want to see them ever again! Seeing them puts all sorts of awful memories in my face and even though I know I’m home and I’m safe, I feel like they’re going to come back and take me away again!!”

He was trembling so bad his teeth chattered, prompting Dib to hold him tighter.

“I’m not gonna let anyone take you, Zim. I promise,” Dib murmured.

“No offense, Dib, but how exactly do you plan on doing _that_?” Zim asked, sullen. He immediately regretted snapping. Dib was only trying to be helpful, after all.

Dib looked him over, trying to figure out how best to respond to Zim’s outburst. “I’ll build the biggest fucking gun anyone has ever seen, put it into orbit, and shoot anyone who even looks like they might have nefarious aims right out of the sky,” he said, deadpan.

Zim laughed, then abruptly looked embarrassed. “Sorry … I don’t know if you meant that seriously or not.”

“I was hoping it might get a little chuckle out of you. Though I really do mean it … I don’t care what I have to do. I won’t let anyone take you away.” Dib held Zim’s gaze for a moment before blushing and looking away. “Want me to grab some clothes for you?”

Zim nodded. “Yeah. I don’t even care what. Just surprise me.”

Dib wandered through the doorway and into the organized chaos that was Zim’s “closet”. One whole side was just rows upon rows of Invader uniforms.

“I’m serious about burning all my old clothes from Irk,” Zim called from just outside. “I’m done with Irk and all those uniforms represent now are bad memories that I want to forget as soon as possible.”

“We can pick up some butane while we’re out,” Dib joked as he rifled through the shelves, trying to pick out something as dissimilar to Zim’s old uniform as possible.

“Good thinking,” Zim said brightly. “Add chocolate and marshmallows and those grammy cookie cracker things to the list as well. We'll make a whole thing of it.”

“Zim … I was joking.”

“That’s nice. I’m not.”

Dib reappeared outside the room and dumped a pair of leggings with purple galaxy print, a t-shirt, and a hoodie in Zim’s lap with a sigh. “As long as it’s not going to release anything into the air that’ll trigger the nuclear fallout detectors, I guess I’m fine with it. Especially if it’ll make you happy.”

“It would, thank you,” Zim said, pulling his pants down.

Dib turned on his heel and started to walk back toward the elevator.

“Wait!! Don’t just leave me!!” Zim chirped frantically.

Dib turned around, a hand over his eyes. “I don’t want to be rude…”

“You’ve already seen me naked, Dib. At least now I’m wearing underwear.”

Dib kept his hand resolutely in front of his face.

“... You are missing how fantastic my underwear is, Dib.”

Dib groaned but humored him. He dropped his hand to reveal that Zim was wearing alien and ufo print underwear and a massive grin.

“Eh? Pretty great, right?”

Dib rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself. “You’re so weird.”

“Shut up. You love it.” He pulled the hoodie over his head. “Oh! The hat … There's a dresser in there. I think the hat’s in the top drawer.”

Dib went back inside and pulled open the drawer. He spotted the hat almost immediately. And under it …

“Hey, Zim?”

“Mm?”

“Why have you got my shirt in here?”

“... Say what?”

“My shirt … the one with the ghost on it. It’s in your dresser.”

There was a short pause before Zim finally replied. “It, uh, probably got put in the wrong pile one of the times we did laundry.”

That would have held water. If not for the fact that this had been his favorite shirt back when Zim was still _definitely_ wearing his Invader uniform for any and all functions, 24/7, and he absolutely recalled the shirt going missing before Zim started dressing like a normal human. Or, at least, what an alien’s idea of a normal human was.

All things being equal, Dib decided to let the conversation rest. He brought Zim’s hat out and handed it to him.

“You’re gonna wear shoes this time so I don’t look like I’m ferrying around ET, right?” Dib asked as they stepped into the elevator.

Zim’s antennae perked up. “Oh! I’ve got the best shoes. You’re going to love them.”

As soon as they were back on the main level, Zim bounded over to the closet, rummaged around, and returned with what Dib immediately recognized as children’s sneakers. Zim pulled them on, then gave a quick bounce that made the soles flicker with different colored lights. Dib’s face broke out in a grin.

“Pretty great, right?” Zim said, beaming.

“Those are perfect for you,” Dib said, giving him an affectionate head pat. “I was worried you were gonna bust out some Heeleys.” All in all, he was just happy that Zim seemed to be in brighter spirits.

Zim pulled his contacts out of his PAK before pulling his hood up. No need for his itchy wig if he was going to be wearing a hat. “Alright. Let’s go.”

They made their way out to the car and Dib immediately put the windows down so they could enjoy the cool morning air. Zim put his feet up on the dash and shot Dib a nervous look. 

“So … when are you planning on leaving?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Dib glanced over and ran a hand through his hair. “You keep asking me that … Do you want me to leave? Because I can go if I’m intruding. I thought I was being helpful …”

“You are!” Zim said quickly. “I just thought you’d have to go back to your family eventually.”

Dib gave a harsh laugh. “What family? Do you mean Gaz, who hates me, or my dad, who’s never even home?”

Zim’s face fell. “Is it really that bad?”

“Trust me, Zim. If you asked me to just live with you until you’re better, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Zim fidgeted nervously, hoping he wasn’t about to come off as desperately clingy. “... Stay with me until I’m better,” he said softly.

“Works for me,” Dib replied without missing a beat.

The silence that followed made Dib reconsider whether or not he had given the correct reply.

“I mean, it’s not just because my family sucks,” he insisted, staring resolutely ahead. “I’m … also really worried about you. We’ve gotten really close and I’d be pretty upset if something bad happened to you.”

Zim stared at his shoes. “As long as you know it might take a while for things to get better.”

“That part I’m not worried about. I’ve basically been your roommate for a while now. And I owe you for, you know, not letting me die of Tylenol poisoning or blood loss or any of the other dumb things I've done to myself.,” Dib mumbled. Zim had definitely seen him at his absolutely lowest.

“As long as you learned your lesson about trying to die on my watch. And hopefully the kids who bullied you last time learned a lesson about being little shits,” Zim added with a sideways glance.

“Say, did anyone ever end up finding them?” Dib asked casually, eyes not deviating from the road.

Zim shrugged. “Not as far as I’ve heard. And you know what? Something tells me that no one ever will.”

They shared a conspiratorial smirk, and Dib handed Zim his phone to pull up a playlist for the rest of their drive.

When they finally pulled up to the grocery store, the parking lot looked mercifully quiet.

“Okay, headphones on, space boy,” Dib said.

Zim looked leery. “You can’t let go of me when we’re walking. I really don’t want to lose my shit and pull out a blaster in the middle of a store. That would be a disaster for so many reasons.”

“I won’t let go. I promise.”

He would hold Zim’s hand as often as Zim wanted. But he wasn’t sure that was something he ought to tell him.

“Oh, hey … do you still remember enough ASL to hold a conversation?” Dib asked.

They’d learned it a few summers prior, when Dib had been dealing with severe sensory overload and suffered a few nasty non-verbal spells in inopportune places. Having a way to communicate meant Zim could actually do something to help instead of guessing and possibly making the situation even worse.

“Permanently encoded in my PAK’s translator, Dib,” Zim replied.

“Good. We can use that to talk because you won’t be able to hear anything once you put that on.”

Zim pulled it on and — true to Dib’s word — all the outside noise disappeared. He flipped through his phone for a good playlist while Dib came around to open his door. He held out his hand and Zim took it, enmeshing their fingers. Dib’s hand was warm and so large it engulfed his own. He had to admit that he felt markedly safer with Dib holding onto him.

They snagged a cart from the parking lot cart return and Dib gave Zim an expectant look. Zim momentarily looked like he might argue, but instead he climbed in and sat facing towards Dib.

 _'I want to be able to see you'_ , Zim signed.

Dib gave him a smile and a thumbs up.

They proceeded into the store and Zim served as Dib’s grocery list, signing items at him and making sure to get plenty of the food GIR would actually eat. Dib hoped that Zim functionally had blinders on and couldn’t tell that they were attracting more attention than usual. Seeing ASL in the wild was a bit of a novelty, so when a little kid came sprinting towards them, Dib braced himself and signed a quick, ‘ _Kid running over here_ ,’ to Zim. His friend looked slightly alarmed and glanced around, shrinking back when the child bounded up to their cart, pigtails swinging.

Zim must have looked more approachable, somehow, because she leaned into the cart and excitedly signed, ‘ _You’re deaf??’_ at him. 

Zim shot a panicked look towards Dib, then slowly shook his head.

‘ _Me and my friend have trouble speaking, sometimes. But we can talk in ASL,’_ he eventually signed. He didn’t think getting into the logistics of his own PTSD and Dib’s sensory processing issues with an 8 year old was the best plan.

‘ _Ears work, voice doesn’t?’_ she asked.

Zim nodded and signed the affirmative.

‘ _My cousin is the same. He’s autistic and signs with me.’_

Dib smiled and signed, ‘ _Same,’_ right before the girl’s mother rushed over, hurriedly signing an apology.

‘ _Sorry! She doesn’t meet many other people who can understand her!’_

Zim shook his head hurriedly. ‘ _Don’t worry. She wasn’t bothering us.’_

The girl signed a quick, ‘ _Nice to meet you!’_ before her mom led her away with a smile and a wave in Zim’s direction.

‘ _You handled that well_ ,’ Dib signed, looking impressed. ‘ _You usually hate kids.’_

 _‘That one seemed okay,’_ Zim replied with a shrug. 

_‘You’re a slut for positive attention,’_ Dib said with a grin, and Zim rolled his eyes. 

By the time they reached the checkout, the only strange look they received was from the bagger, who was attempting to fit the grocery bags in around Zim.

“Can your friend … uh …”

Dib motioned for Zim to hop out. He steadied the cart as Zim stood up, offering Zim a hand, which he took and didn’t give back once his feet were on solid ground. It made pulling out his wallet more than a bit of a bother, so Dib sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was responsible for allowing him to magically pay by holding his phone next to the reader.

All in all, the trip had been less of a nightmare than Dib had been expecting. Once they packed the trunk full of groceries and were finally back in the car, Zim pulled his hat out from under his hood.

“Okay, I’ll admit you did a decent job on this thing. I couldn’t hear anything over the music.” He sat nervously with his hand in his lap, fidgeting, then abruptly leaned over and hugged Dib tightly.

Dib initially stiffened in surprise, but quickly relaxed into it when Zim didn't let go.

“I’m proud of you,” Dib murmured, hugging back. “You made it through the whole trip without any issues. I honestly think you may have made that kid’s day, too.”

Zim rested his head on Dib’s shoulder. “Setting the bar a little low, don’t you think?”

“You were really worried about coming out here and you did just fine. I think you should celebrate that.”

“... Celebrate with cupcakes?” Zim ventured.

“Oh, fine. You can have cupcakes for breakfast. You’ve earned it.”

———

_[Freshman Year of High School, 3 Years Prior]_

Zim stared at the clock as the last five minutes of class trickled by. He couldn’t concentrate on anything the teacher was saying, and his gaze kept wandering back to Dib’s empty desk. Ever since they’d started being friendly with each other, not a day went by where they didn’t interact in some capacity. Zim had even started letting Dib drag him along to hunt Big Feets and ghosts. On the weekends where failed expeditions seemed to weigh on Dib more than normal, Zim had taken to letting him prank call various planets from the base. There were a handful of people that Zim figured deserved it, anyhow.

When the bell finally rang, Zim marched straight to the Membrane residence. Was Dib avoiding him? Zim had sent him countless text messages but Dib hadn’t answered a single one. Not even the one he’d sent that said, “Ignore this if you’re a loser!” He’d really been banking on that one actually pulling Dib out of hiding. 

He certainly hoped Dib wasn’t back on his “real science” bullshit again. That had been enough of an ordeal the first time, though he hated to admit to himself exactly _why._ He had lost all of his purpose and drive, just because Dib had momentarily left the picture. And this was before they’d even called a truce! He knew it was down to more than just Dib being a worthy opponent. On some level — and Zim _really_ hated to say this — he needed Dib. 

As he passed one of the parks on the way over, a lone figure on the swings caught his eye. He was shocked to realize it was Dib, dragging his feet in the dirt as he swung half-heartedly back and forth.

“Dib-stink!!”

Dib looked like a deer in headlights and Zim momentarily faltered.

 _Oh_. That may have been a bit much, even if he was a touch frustrated with Dib for neglecting him.

“Just leave, Zim,” Dib said so quietly that Zim almost didn’t hear him.

“Are you mad at me?” Zim asked cautiously, walking over. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you and you haven’t replied and I thought … did I do something?”

“Don’t pretend to care about me,” Dib said morosely. “Everyone keeps pretending like they give a shit, but they don’t.”

Zim gave him a bewildered look. “Should I _not_ have texted you all week?? I’ve been … I’ve …” He didn’t want to say those words. But who was he trying to kid anymore? They’d gone camping together. Amusement parks. Midnight movie releases. Did homework together. They were _friends_ , and that meant Zim was allowed to care without it being weird. “I’ve been worried and I missed you, Dib.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, here.”

“Just leave me alone.”

Something about the way Dib said it hit Zim funny. He suddenly felt like leaving Dib alone was the absolute last thing he should be doing. His eyes travelled down to Dib’s hand, which was holding something in his pocket. Until that moment, Zim had never really believed in a sixth sense. But now, an overwhelming feeling that something was terribly wrong gripped his squeedlyspooch. He was positive that, if he turned around and left now, this would be the last time he ever saw his friend.

“Not until you tell me what you're hiding,” Zim said, suddenly serious.

Dib looked nervous, eyes averted. “Please go,” he whispered at the sand.

Zim had no intentions of doing that. Dib smelled like fear, stale blood, and —

“Dib … either you bathed in almonds this morning, or you have cyanide capsules in your pocket,” Zim said calmly. Certainly much more calmly than he felt. Inside, he was absolutely rattled. “You’re going to give them to me, and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

“No,” Dib whispered. 

Zim sighed and grabbed his arm. Like a stone being tossed on a lake, the placid calm exterior Dib had being trying to maintain erupted in feral anger as he immediately started to struggle. 

“I would love to do this the easy way,” Zim said through gritted teeth as Dib flailed and hit his arm.

“Let go!!" Dib screeched. "Fuck off, Zim! Just let me die!!”

“Nope. You don’t get to die, Dib,” he grunted as he attempted to pry Dib’s hand open. They tumbled into the sand but Zim didn’t let go, rolling on top of Dib to pin him.

“Get off me!! I don’t want to be alive anymore!!” Dib wailed.

“Tough … fucking … shit!!” He ripped Dib’s hand open and Dib yelped, clutching his wrist as the contents of his fist bounced across the dirt. Zim rushed to pick them up, but Dib didn’t move to try and stop him. He sat in the sand, nursing his hurt arm and looking sour.

“You made me pull a stitch, you stupid space anole …” he growled. “Now I’m alive, with a pulled stitch, and probably bleeding! How is any of this preferable to me being gone??”

Zim stowed the capsules safely in his PAK, mentally planning to flush them down the toilet later. “Do you need a hospital?”

“NO!!” Dib shrieked, eyes wide. He pushed himself backwards, feet scrabbling in the dirt. “No no no no …”

Zim looked completely bewildered and he held up his hands. “Okay. Fuck. Sorry I mentioned it …”

Dib didn’t seem to be calming down. He was looking around, eyes unfocused, trembling. 

“Did you call someone??” he demanded. He curled into a ball, hands gripping tufts of his own hair, tugging and rocking. “Fuck … They’re going to come get me, aren’t they? They’re going to find me, and they’ll take me again and I … I can’t go back!!”

Zim carefully approached him and held him close. Dib started to try and fight him off but Zim just held him tighter until he relaxed. 

“No one is coming. It’s just me,” Zim said softly.

“But … my dad,” Dib said frantically. “If he knows I’m not home and I didn’t go to school …!”

“We’re really close to my base,” Zim said, trying to keep his voice soft and even so that Dib would match his pitch and tone. “I can take you there. Your dad doesn’t know the address and I won’t let anyone take you, okay?”

Dib sat perfectly still, scarcely even breathing, then nodded slowly.

Zim continued to keep a tight hold on him. “If I help you, you have to promise not to run, not to hurt yourself, alright?”

“Okay …” Dib whispered, still shaking.

Zim cautiously let him go, but held on to one of his hands. “Alright. We’re just 5 minutes away. Come on.”

He guided a trembling and miserable Dib back to his base, eventually putting his arm around Dib’s waist to provide more physical and emotional support.

Dib was silent the whole way, and Zim was helpless to provide much in the way of conversation. What could he say, when Dib hadn’t given him anything to go on? All he knew was that, under the sweat and blood and almond smells, Dib smelled rather nice, and being this close inexplicably filled his squeedlyspooch full of flappy, colorful earth butter-bugs. 

Once they got back to the base and Zim said a hasty hello to GIR and assured him that they’d all watch TV some other time, they made their way upstairs where the auxiliary TV and futon were shoved into an empty corner of the upstairs workshop.

Zim flopped down, and Dib sat down just close enough that Zim could still smell the residual cyanide. 

“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?” Zim asked cautiously.

“I tried to kill myself last week,” Dib blurted out, rapidly glancing up and then back his feet, looking small as he pulled his legs to his chest.

“ _What??_ ” Zim shouted back in shock. “And you didn’t even _bother to call me??_ ”

He shouldn’t have even been the least bit surprised. This had happened before. When Dib had been bullied. When his father forgot his birthday. When he’d failed a test because he studied the wrong chapter. Unfortunately, Dib was operating at near maximum capacity for shittiness 24/7, 365, so it didn’t take much to send him careening over the edge.

Dib made a few frustrated sounds before finally putting together a coherent sentence in reply. “And say _what,_ exactly? ‘Oh hey, Zim! Off to kill myself. Thought you should know!’?”

“And you’re implying that this is somehow _less_ awkward and awful?” Zim asked, flabbergasted. 

“ _Mira_ , Zim … even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have had time, okay?” Dib said, finally making eye contact. He ran his fingers through his hair, agitated. “Remember that contest I entered one of our videos in?”

“Yeah?”

“When I came home after our camping trip last weekend … weekend before last?” Dib looked to Zim for help. 

“It’s Monday now and you’ve been missing since _last_ Monday. So weekend before last,” Zim said, watching him carefully. Dib was acting in that twitchy and erratic way that always put Zim on edge.

“Okay. Yeah. So I came back and I found out my dad had taken all my hard drives with my paranormal footage on it.” Dib took a deep breath to calm himself. “I was really upset. He apparently did it because he was sick of me giving him and Membrane Labs a bad name, I guess. Which I don’t give a shit about. But yeah … I was _so_ upset, I stopped being able to see a way out of all the bullshit and I just … tried to kill myself. Except I fucked up, like usual,” he mumbled. “And then I got scared and tried to bandage things up, but Gaz saw and then _she_ freaked out and called dad, who called an ambulance. By the time I got to the psych ward, they’d taken my phone and my shoe laces and I couldn’t have called you if I wanted to.” Dib slumped back. “I wish I could’ve … they had me so drugged up I could hardly think, and they tried to … to zap the crazy out of me …” He shrunk in on himself. “Electroshock therapy. They were hitting me with everything they had.”

“There was a version of that on Irk,” Zim said softly. “It's a way to reboot various parts of the PAK when they malfunction, I guess in the same way you’d use it on a human brain. I got sent for that so many times as a smeet. They were pushing me up through the ranks because they valued how destructive I was, but I fucked up so often that I was sent to be rebooted just about weekly, for a while there.” He looked up. Dib was so tense that his shoulders were hunched up to his ears. “I wish I had known what was happening,” Zim said softly. “I would have broken you out of there. A full week of that is just insane.”

“I got out on Saturday,” Dib replied, eyes downcast. “I wanted to text you but I kept getting flashbacks and it took a while for the medication they forced into me to wear off.”

“Why try to kill yourself instead of just _calling me??”_ Zim asked, pain evident in his voice.

“Because everything is past the point of me being able to fix it,” Dib said softly. “Gaz won’t talk to me at all anymore. My dad hates me for making him look bad. I don’t want to make you deal with all of my problems. It’s not fair.”

Zim’s insides ached in a way he’d never quite experienced before. It was a sick sort of pain that gripped his heart and made him almost anxious.

“It’s not fair for you to just … rip a hole right through my _life_ like that, Dib,” Zim said, more than a little upset. “We can … I don’t know, rearrange this floor and have the base set up with your own private room. Fabricate a bed for you. You can stay here when your dad is home. Or whenever you want to stay up until 3am and watch a dumb movie.” He closed his eyes. “Whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy. I’ll do it. Just … don’t … don’t leave me here all alone, Dib. You s-selfish fucking _stupid_ bastard …” Zim realized his words were likely unhelpful, but he struggled to find it in him to care. He was too busy furiously wiping his face off, as if Dib couldn’t already see that he was crying.

“You wouldn’t be mad if I called you at 4am asking to come over?” Dib asked quietly, pretending he didn’t see the tears running down Zim’s face.

Zim was about to ask Dib how there could still be confusion over his stance when the answer suddenly hit him; Dib had suffered the same emotional neglect that Zim had. He wasn’t used to having his needs met or people being there for him. On the rare occasion that he reached out, he was already expecting rejection before he’d even received a response.

“No, I’d be relieved that you called me instead of doing something stupid.” His eyes traveled down to Dib’s arm. “Speaking of doing something stupid … Can I see that?”

Dib looked reticent, but slowly pulled his sleeve up and held his arm out to Zim, who undid the bandages. He watched as Zim winced and sent a pitying glance in his direction as the full extent of the damage became clear.

“Whoever fixed you was at least good at their job,” he murmured as he inspected the stitches. “Looks like you bled a bit from getting jostled, but none of the stitches actually came out.” He let go of Dib’s arm and stood up. “I’ll get you a better bandage.”

“It had better be sparkly,” Dib said as Zim trotted off to the other side of the workshop to wash his hands and fetch some things from the first aid kit that only existed because of Dib.

“I think that’s a little too large for one of those,” Zim called over his shoulder.

“Worth a try.”

Zim returned with a rubbery looking sheet, a roll of stretchy bandage, and some scissors.

“What kinda fancy medical equipment is that?” Dib asked as Zim cut off an appropriately sized strip.

“Hydrocolloid bandage,” Zim replied. 

Dib gave him a strange look. “The stuff they make blister bandages out of??”

“The very same. It should also work for this.”

Zim delicately fixed Dib up, making him feel a lot more cared for than the emergency department ever had.

“I’m shocked the stitches came out as well as they did,” Dib said, voice soft, as Zim wrapped the bandage around his arm. “I was really freaking out by the time they had someone sew me up. Dad was still out of town, and even though he could have flown back, he didn’t. I think Gaz was too freaked out to come with me. So I was all alone and I didn’t want to be there and everyone was getting sick of me flipping out and trying to talk my way out of a psych hold …”

Zim finished sealing up the sides of the bandage and then shocked Dib by wrapping him up in a hug. “Call me next time,” Zim murmured sadly. “I won’t send you to the hospital. I promise. I’ll fix you myself, if you need it and I’ll take care of you until you’re feeling better. I can’t go through this again.”

Dib’s arms hung awkwardly at his side, but when Zim didn’t let go, he relaxed and hugged back.

“Promise me you’ll call next time,” Zim whispered.

If Dib didn’t know him better, he might almost say Zim was begging him.

“I promise,” Dib said, only just barely audible.

“And no more cyanide! Fuck, Dib …” Zim mumbled into his shoulder. “What are you, _a noir spy_?? Where did you even get this stuff?” Zim finally sat back to give Dib a thoroughly bewildered expression. 

“My dad’s lab,” Dib said guiltily. “I snuck into the chemical storage lab and stole some.”

“Is what I took from you all of it, or do you have more?” Zim asked sternly. 

Dib hunched his shoulders and looked away.

“Dib?” Zim said threateningly, moving into Dib’s line of sight. “If I think you’re lying to me, I will personally go and rip your room apart.”

“I’ve got a whole box of things,” Dib admitted. “I don’t even want to be near my house right now, though … Can I stay here for the rest of the week? I feel like I’ll do better if … I mean, I shouldn’t just assume you _care_. Maybe that’s too fluffy for Irkens …”

“Of course I _care_ , Dib,” Zim said, exasperated. “What does it look like I’m doing? You’re my friend and I care about you being alive.”

Dib met his eyes, shocked expression gradually giving way to a small smile. “Okay … good. Because I think that’s what I need right now. It’s enough to know somebody would miss me.”

Zim was painfully aware of the space between them. Touching Dib felt indescribably good, but Dib seemed reluctant to be touched, now that he wasn’t dissociating. As much as he wanted to hold his friend, hug him, and physically reassure him that everything was alright, he made sure to keep a respectful distance.

Dib suddenly stifled a yawn, and it occurred to Zim just how exhausted Dib looked.

“We should pick up some of your things and toss your box of death into the incinerator later,” Zim said. “But for now, you should nap. You look exhausted.”

Dib pulled his knees up to his chest. “I’d rather not … every time I try to sleep, I wake up screaming. I keep having nightmares about being tossed back in the psych ward and having my brain electrified, or worse …” 

He looked up, and meeting his eyes made Zim feel like he was staring into an ocean of sadness. It had a gravity that threatened to suck him in, and he wanted to let it.

“I’m terrified of going back there,” Dib said. “My dad’s sick of dealing with me. I genuinely think he’d just lock me up there for the next three years if he could. I’ve completely ruined my relationship with him and Gaz at this point. If I fuck up again, no one is coming to save me …” He gave a sideways glance at Zim. “Okay, no one is _legally_ coming to save me.”

“You say that like it's not the superior way to save people," Zim said with a smirk. “But don’t worry. I’ll stay right here while you sleep. I want to plan out what I’m going to do to make this room human-compatible, anyhow.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Dib said as he pulled the blanket off the back of the futon and curled up. 

Zim busied himself on his tablet, trying to ignore the urge to snuggle up beside Dib and hold him. Where had all these feelings bubbled up from?? Suddenly, all he wanted was to physically comfort this sad, damaged human and never let him go.

The thought that he might have to let him go, however, kept him from closing that gap. Besides, there was no way Dib was having similar feelings, and Zim wasn’t about to throw away everything they’d worked for. At least for now, this would have to be enough,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to mention I know electroshock therapy has come a long way. But we're in the IZ universe where everything is a bit dystopian and mental health is pretty stigmatized and stuck in the dark ages. I also have to assume Irk also doesn't give a shit about the effect their treatments have on the individual as long as something produces results favorable the empire.


	3. Nothing's Normal Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim's still struggling with his demons, on top of struggling with his growing feelings for Dib.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for MAXIMUM ANGST.

_And while you're at it_   
_Keep the nightlight on inside the_   
_Birdhouse in your soul_

[\- They Might Be Giants, _Birdhouse in Your Soul_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zOKBvHNWus)

* * *

∧＿∧  
（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。  
⊂ ノ ・゜+.  
しーＪ °。+ *´¨)  
.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)  
(¸.·´ (¸.·’* ☆

_^^^ I thought this might make the angst a little easier to deal with_

_i._

A sudden shriek startled Dib out of a dead sleep and before he could even register where he was, he was being straddled and pinned against the bed. 

“ _How could you??_ ” Zim roared from above him. “They were just smeets!”

He was just barely able to stop himself from attempting to throw Zim off before he realized that tossing his friend over the side of the bed would likely only escalate the situation, and he _really_ wasn't in the mood to be mortally wounded. One look into Zim’s crazed, unfocused expression cemented, with terrifying certainty, his assumption that Zim was hellbent on destroying _somebody_.

“Zim … just calm down. Do you know where you are?” Dib asked, mouth suddenly dry as he forced himself to speak calmly. 

_Pow!!_

Zim reeled back and cold-cocked him in the jaw in one swift motion and he yelped as his lip split open.

“Don’t waste my time with stupid questions!” Zim screeched.

The taste of blood in his mouth made Dib realize that things were suddenly much more dire than they’d been in the previous night. He hadn’t expected that Zim would _actually_ end up hurting him, but Zim looked like he was in full-fledged murder mode. Before Zim could pull back and hit him again, Dib grabbed his wrists.

… And abruptly realized that was the wrong move. 

“Let go!!!” Zim yelled, thrashing to get free. 

“You have to calm down! I’m not trying to hurt you!” Dib insisted, panicked and trying to pin Zim's arms with his own.

“Shut up!! Shut up!! You fucking murdered them!!” Zim’s wrists broke free of Dib’s grip and his hands closed around Dib’s throat. “They didn’t do anything wrong!!”

There was a weapon in his face again, but this time Dib was rapidly losing faith that Zim would come to before he either pulled the trigger or strangled him to death. Zim pressed the barrel against his forehead, teeth bared.

“I won’t let you kill me, too!” Zim snapped and, for the first time, Dib could see beyond Zim’s murderous ruby red gaze and recognize his own terror reflected back in Zim’s expression. 

“Zim … please … it’s just Dib,” he choked out, no longer fighting back. If Zim was just as frightened, Dib didn’t want to set him off further. “You’re on earth … please please don’t shoot …” He sounded close to tears, and Zim suddenly faltered.

He gave Dib a look as if trying to place him in a concrete physical and temporal location. There was a strange shift as the fog in Zim's eyes seemed to fade and he finally registered who Dib was.

Dib slowly held up his hands, still terrified that a sudden move could land him with his brains splattered all over his pillow. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe. Do you know where you are, now?”

Zim’s face fell and he hurriedly stowed his blaster. Dib could still feel the impression it had made on his skin. They stared, unmoving, until Dib finally shook his panic enough to realize he was laying in an uncomfortably warm puddle.

“Dammit …” he swore as he sat up abruptly, quickly moving Zim aside so he didn’t completely knock him over. He looked down to realize they were both equal levels of soaked and rubbed his temples. “Great … I have no idea which one of us that was. And you know what? I don’t really want to know.” 

Zim was staring over his shoulder, looking dazed. Dib reached out and touched his cheek, since the action seemed least likely to elicit a panic response. Zim looked over slowly, eyes unfocused. 

“This is going to be a bit of a production … We’re gonna have to shower off and then I can work on swapping out the sheets, alright?”

Zim just stared blankly and Dib was uncertain if anything he’d said had even registered. He waited a moment, but Zim continued to look lost. He tugged at Zim’s sleeve, trying to coax him over.

“Look, I'm not trying to be a creep, but we're both disgusting and the sooner you take everything off, the sooner we can be back in bed,” he said gently. "So come here and I'll help you out of everything." 

He wasn’t sure if the horror of the flashback had knocked Zim into a dissociative episode, or if Zim was simply too embarrassed by what had just transpired and was going into shutdown mode. Either way, he didn’t even blink. Dib sighed and started helping him undress. Although “helping” may have been too strong a word, since Zim wasn’t picking up much of the slack on his end, and pulling wet pants off someone who didn’t want to move was no easy task. 

“I’m trying to keep this from being more awkward than it has to be, but you are making it _really difficult_ ,” Dib mumbled, trying not to look down so that Zim could maintain a shred of dignity.

“S-sorry …”

Zim’s voice was so quiet that Dib, sitting as close as he was, could just barely make out the apology. He turned back to Zim, whose antennae trembled behind his head, eyes wide.

“I’m not trying to make it hard on you. I just froze up …” Zim whispered.

“It’s fine. You probably just dissociated a little bit. You seemed really freaked out,” Dib replied patiently. “Go shower off before you get chilled.”

Zim looked him up and down. “What about you?”

Dib rubbed the bridge of his nose. Trying to make his tired, adrenaline-shocked brain work out the number and order of steps was asking quite a lot of his admittedly limited-at-best executive functioning skills, especially at this hour. “I’ll deal with the bed and throw our clothes in the laundry. Just grab me my bathrobe, would you?” he said, trying not to sound aggravated.

Zim pulled off his shirt in one fluid motion and slid off the bed while Dib leaned over and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. He was hoping that it would help properly wake him up, but it only served to confuse his brain further. His subconscious knew he was supposed to be asleep, but his subconscious was going to need to get used to disappointment with the way his sleep schedule had been going.

Zim walked back into the now brightly lit room, sans clothes, and Dib abruptly averted his eyes. “Do you _need_ to walk around stark naked like that?” he asked uncomfortably.

Zim tossed his bathrobe at him and it landed over his face. 

“This from the person who insisted on bathing me just the other day,” Zim said with an eye roll as Dib pulled the robe off of his head. He finally got a proper look at the damage he'd caused and his antennae suddenly perked. “Oh, shit … your face …” he whispered.

“Things I say every morning when I look in the mirror…” Dib said under his breath, turning away. 

Zim grabbed his arm and yanked him forwards to get a better look at the damage. Dib's cheek was red and slightly swollen already, and his busted lip had dripped blood down his chin.

“That’s going to bruise …” he said, taking Dib’s chin in his hand and running his thumb along Dib’s lip and over to his cheek.

Dib jerked back, blushing. “It’s fine. I’ll put some ice on it later.”

Zim stared a moment longer, then shrugged slightly and turned back towards the bathroom. “Suit yourself …” he said, with an amount of levity that didn’t quite seem to match his concern just moments before.

Once Dib was sure that Zim had disappeared into the shower, he quickly pulled off his clothes and slipped into his bathrobe, then proceeded to strip the bed. He was grateful for the time Zim had spilled Kool-Aid on his mattress, since it had prompted him to put a waterproof cover over the whole thing.

As he pulled off the sheets, he had to admit that this wasn’t what he’d assumed he was signing up for when he asked to help out his friend. Zim had clearly been in a bad way, judging by how he’d tried to attack Dib right out of the gate, but Dib had sort of figured that Zim would bounce back before too long. He really hadn’t expected Zim to be so thoroughly broken by his ordeal, and at this point, Zim’s symptoms were starting to genuinely concern him. Once Zim was asleep, he planned to read up on PTSD so that he could get a better idea of whether or not he should be more worried than he was.

Although, what more could he really do? Haul Zim off to a therapist? Even a heavily redacted version of events was liable to set off alarm bells that Zim was delusional. And that was a _best case_ scenario. It seemed he was on his own with this one.

Dib hauled the laundry down to the basement level where Zim had a washer and dryer stashed. Despite the fact that he was relegated to the task of switching out the bedclothes at four in the morning, Dib was more than a little surprised to find that he didn’t harbor any resentment about his predicament. Caring for him Zim -- no matter what form that took -- satisfied some deep need to be needed, for sure, but his soul-level zen felt more involved than even that. Watching Zim settle in against him, relaxing under his touch, and being the one person Zim felt safe around made him feel good in ways he couldn’t explain and was honestly scared to explore.

By the time he made his way back upstairs with the replacement sheets and quilt, Zim was finally done in the shower and waiting in the bedroom with a towel around his waist.

“I’ll take those,” Zim said, motioning Dib to set them down on the bed before shooing him off to the bathroom. “Go get clean. I can handle it from here.” 

Dib wasn’t about to argue, so he just nodded and briskly made his way over to the shower. At this point, he just wanted to be clean and dry and snuggled up in bed. Hopefully with a much more relaxed and docile Zim in his arms, snuggling into him as if he were the world’s best comfort object. He slipped out of his bathrobe and stepped into the shower, thoughts wandering.

He had to wonder where Zim’s feelings for him started and ended. He vividly recalled Zim inching toward him that first night, trying to get close without having to ask for it. Did Zim see him as merely a friend? Or maybe ... something more? Zim’s boundaries had always been strange, so his level of cuddling and clinginess could mean just about anything. Especially considering that both of them had limited experience with being close to people outside of each other. Dib had experienced one short, horribly traumatic relationship and that was about it as far as his experiences with other people went. His blueprint for true romantic love was sorely lacking and he couldn’t imagine Zim’s was much better. If there was a line one or both of them had been inadvertently crossing, it was marked in a language that neither understood.

He realized he’d been standing under the water, lost in thought, for quite a while now, and finally got to work scrubbing himself down. By the time he ambled back into the bedroom, toweling his hair off, Zim was sitting on the fully-made bed, wearing a pair of actual pajamas. Dib squinted, realizing green top and blue bottoms with little UFOs printed on them looked familiar. They were definitely his from when he was younger. He couldn’t recall whether or not he’d officially given them to Zim, but somehow the idea that Zim had snatched them from his dresser at some point seemed like the least weird thing Zim had done practically ever.

Dib pulled some clothes out of the dresser, debating whether or not to move back to the bathroom to change. With Zim traipsing around naked just shortly before, it seemed a bit useless to feign modesty so he dressed quickly, pulling his pants up under his towel and his shirt on over it before finally removing it. He tossed his towel over the bathroom door and made his way back over to the bed where Zim was sitting, looking embarrassed and running his fingers over a small jar. He looked up and handed it to Dib.

“What’s this?” Dib asked in confusion, turning it over in his hands. It was an unlabeled mason jar, which didn’t help Dib in identifying the contents at all.

“It’s salve … for your face,” Zim said, barely above a whisper. He looked up, antennae trembling behind his head. “It’ll stop the bruising and help you heal faster. I can help you put it on, if you want …”

Zim looked like he wanted to do _something_ to make things better, so Dib sat and opened the jar, letting Zim get to work. His fingers worked in gentle circles, but Dib still winced when Zim hit a sore spot.

Zim sat back on his heels, looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry … I didn’t realize I’d hit you so hard,” he whispered.

“It’s just a bit sore,” Dib said dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Just keep going and ignore me being a total wuss, alright?”

Zim nodded and continued with even more care than before, fingers lightly brushing Dib's skin with just the faintest amount of pressure.

“Why have you got this sitting around?” Dib asked.

“Hm?” Zim didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“You heal pretty quickly. You must never have to bust this stuff out.”

“Oh. Um. I made it … for you …” Zim trailed off, scarcely above a whisper. He was still avoiding eye contact with Dib. “Do you remember the one really awful fight we had, around the time we were trying to be friends?”

Dib watched as Zim’s lip trembled. “The one that happened because I asked if your Tallest had ever planned on coming at all?” he asked cautiously.

“And then the teachers had to come pull us off each other, yeah,” Zim said, his voice still a whisper. He glanced up at Dib quickly, then down to his lips. He delicately dabbed at the split skin just above the blossoming bruise. “You broke my arm … I broke one of your ribs. And I felt _horrible_ about all of it. I was going to give you this, but you didn’t talk to me for basically a whole month and by the time we were speaking again, it wasn’t relevant.”

Dib looked concerned. “I didn’t even realize I’d broken your arm …”

“It got better. It’s fine,” Zim said with a dismissive little shrug that left Dib feeling entirely uncertain over whether or not it genuinely _was_ fine. Zim finally sat back, looked Dib's face over one last time, and gave a little nod. “That should do it for now.”

Dib set the jar aside and switched off the light before pulling the covers back. He glanced over and, in the cold light cast by the moon, he could tell that Zim still hadn’t moved.

“I’m … sorry for all the trouble tonight,” Zim murmured, looking at his knees.

“Like I said, I don’t even know which one of us it was and I’m not interested in assigning blame,” Dib replied simply.

“I meant for your face,” Zim whispered. “And for scaring you and not snapping out of it.”

“It’s alright,” Dib assured him. “With this goop on my face, I'll look even better than it did before. And don’t worry about how long it took you to ground yourself. You can’t control your trauma.”

Zim didn’t seem very convinced.

“Do you need a hug?” Dib asked, feeling out of his depth.

“Do I _deserve_ a hug?” Zim replied darkly. 

“Always,” Dib said, lifting the blankets beside him. 

Zim gave him a concerned expression, but Dib motioned him forwards insistently until Zim slid over, shimmying under the covers and snuggling against Dib’s body.

“Much better,” Dib said softly, that warm, amber glow filling his chest again.

Holding Zim close made him feel complete for once in his life, and that realization was slightly terrifying. He had to ask himself what could possibly be going through Zim's head right now. Was Zim thinking about being touched and held and caressed in more than just a comforting way? Was he thinking about softly pressing their lips together in the darkness as they shared the same breath?

There was no point in beating around the bush with himself any longer. Dib knew what he was feeling, even if he was terrified to let himself think it. 

“I l—”

_I love you, Zim. Or like, at least. Or something. Just say it!!_

Zim looked up. “Hm?”

“I … I’m glad I can be here for you,” Dib said, hoping it wasn’t a horribly clunky save. He looked into Zim’s puppy-eyed expression and couldn’t help but gently stroke his cheek. “If you want to talk about what had you so wound up, I’m here.”

“I don’t want to end up crying on you …” Zim mumbled self-consciously.

“I would think that’d be the least embarrassing thing that’s happened to us tonight,” Dib said with a wry smile.

Zim snuggled back against him. “Fair,” he sighed. “Alright. I forget … how much have I told you about Irk?”

“Enough that I know your leaders fucking suck,” Dib grumbled. “Seriously. If I ever meet them, I’m wiping out your entire government with a single punch to the mouth.”

“Red and Purple are the Tallest, but there’s a power higher than them, even,” Zim said softly. “The control brains are the ones who handle all the collective data. They decide who gets to be remembered and who is erased. They’re the ones who _actually_ control everything that goes on with the Empire. And they’re the ones sentenced me to death for failing the Existence Evaluation on multiple counts.”

He pressed his face into Dib’s shirt again and Dib hugged him in response. “Take your time, okay?” Dib said gently. “I’m not in a rush.”

Zim nodded and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “I, um … when they tried to erase my PAK. Something went wrong. It felt like something went backwards from how it was supposed to happen. I should have been drained of my memories. But instead of everything flowing out, it started flowing _in._ I saw … aeons of data from Irk’s history.” He looked up and his eyes were unfocused, haunted. “There was … stuff I’m still processing. A lot of it. But the part that got lodged in my brain was …”

Zim broke off, trembling, and Dib felt sudden, frantic anxiety well up in his chest. He wished he could take on even half of Zim’s pain and give him a reprieve.

“What really fucked me up was what they did to the smeets, Dib!! The defective ones … they —” Zim stopped again, holding Dib tightly, shaking, and trying desperately not to cry.

Dib held him right back, resting his cheek on the top of Zim’s head in an effort to make him feel secure.

“... They turn them into lab rats,” Zim choked out. “So when I came to and I was still on Judgementia, as soon as I realized all the systems were down and no one was paying attention to me in the panic, I ran. I stole the first ship I could find. The research department is housed on an adjacent planet so I tried … I tried to rescue them. I really, really did!” he insisted, as if Dib would dare to question his sincerity for even a moment. “I shot … I don’t even know how many Irkens to try and get to them. But I was overwhelmed when more and more just kept coming and I didn’t have a choice … I had to leave or they’d kill me for real …” A sob interrupted him and he pressed his face into Dib’s chest. “I _tried_!! I tried _so hard_ but I couldn’t help them!!”

“It’s not your fault, Zim. I promise,” Dib murmured, rubbing the back of Zim’s neck in an attempt to comfort him.

“Why did I get a fair chance when they didn’t??" Zim wailed plaintively. "There’s _nothing_ special about me, Dib!! _Nothing_!!!”

“That’s not true,” Dib said, squeezing his eyes shut. “This is going to sound unbelievably trite, considering everything, but you’re special to me, Zim. And I know it hurts … but there’s nothing more you could have done. You dying — either as a smeet or while trying to rescue them — it wouldn’t have changed things. It sucks and it’s not fair and it _hurts_ more than anything _,_ I know … I know,” he said softly, squeezing Zim tightly in response to his sobs growing louder. “Because you’re smart and strong and capable, and you want to believe more than _anything_ that there was something you could have done. That if you had infinite chances, you could _make_ things go differently. But sometimes you just can’t. You could get stronger or be smarter and things would still play out the same. It doesn’t change the fact that _none of it_ is your fault.”

“I don’t _want_ to feel helpless!” Zim hiccuped despairingly. “I don’t want to feel like nothing would make a difference …”

“I know … it’s a shitty feeling,” Dib whispered, his heart breaking. He was painfully aware that nothing he could do to fix all of the hurt that Zim had experienced.

There was an emptiness now, as he held Zim’s small, shaking body against his own; a cold, still sadness in the pit of his stomach as the depth of Zim’s trauma became apparent. This wasn’t something that he would be over in a week. Or even a month. Maybe not in a number of years or ever. The only solace was the knowledge that, in time, Zim might eventually stop waking up screaming, even if the nightmares never truly went away.

Dib still found himself wanting to be there for Zim, even if it made him hurt by proximity. He wanted to be there to hold Zim for every second of it, and he wasn’t quite sure what the correct move was. His desire to be needed and his blossoming love for his best friend seemed a terrifying combination that could very easily get out of hand. He felt he was walking on a razor’s edge, teetering between emotional self-harm and a labor of love for the person he cared most about out of anyone on the planet.

He ran his fingers down Zim’s antenna before catching himself and abruptly letting it go. Zim groped blindly for Dib’s hand and put it back.

“Are you sure?” Dib asked nervously. “I thought you didn’t like how out of it that made you feel …”

“I don’t want to feel what I’m feeling right now, so just do it,” Zim mumbled, breath hitching. 

Dib gently took an antenna in his fingers and ran them down the length of it. Zim shivered and cuddled closer as Dib stroked the ends with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I got weird when you first did that yesterday,” Zim whispered as he snuggled under Dib’s chin, a purr bubbling up in his throat and choking out the sobs that desperately wanted to rip themselves from his chest. “It puts me in a strange headspace. But it also feels good to float in nothingness for a little while sometimes.” 

As Dib ran both antennae through his fingers, Zim could feel his mind going to that pleasantly warm, numb place and he let it. Being emotionally anesthetized by every one of Dib’s small movements was all he wanted right then. He was peripherally aware of how loudly he was purring, his body rumbling away into the sounds of the night as Dib murmured above him, soft and indecipherable. He could feel everything relaxing, his thoughts slowing as his body became heavy. His antennae relaxed forwards, resting against Dib’s chest, and Dib’s hand followed them. The thrum of blood through all of Dib’s arteries and veins and capillaries mingled with the basso beat of Dib’s heart and the steady rumble in Zim’s own chest. 

It felt safe to let go and he gladly sunk deeper and deeper into the din that blanketed him like a soft, warm snowfall. He momentarily thought he heard Dib whisper his name, but he was too deep now to tell. His anxious thoughts murmured softly in the background but had no real power here. Dib was safety and security and protection, so what was a mere thought compared to Dib’s physical presence?

A soft peck on the top of his head briefly roused his consciousness, letting it gently float to the surface.

“I love you, Zim. Sleep well. I won’t let anything hurt you, okay?”

Zim didn’t have time to process it before he slipped under the warm, heavy blanket of unconsciousness. 

* * *

_ii._

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Zim was just beginning to feel like he was catching up on sleep when the sun beaming through the windows suddenly hit him right in the face. He grumbled and rolled over, ready to slip back into a blissfully dreamless haze, when he abruptly realized that Dib wasn’t where he’d left him. He sat up, confused when he found the bed empty and Dib’s side cold. He looked around the room, panic filling his chest, trying to spot any sign of Dib. There was no towel on the bathroom door. Dib’s phone and glasses were gone from the bedside table. For all intents and purposes, it appeared Zim had conked out in Dib's bed alone.

An uncomfortable, icy knot formed in Zim’s stomach. He ran over the last couple days in his head, suddenly doubting his own memories. What if Dib had never been there at all?

It made a certain sort of horrific sense, really. Zim had been bouncing between reality and flashbacks ever since he’d come home. Maybe he’d hallucinated someone to help him. Maybe he’d been alone this whole time, babbling to himself, imagining his closest and only friend holding him and whispering gentle reassurance.

The walls seemed to be closing in and his thoughts crowded him until he couldn’t think. Was he really losing his grip on reality completely?

“Dib??” he yelled, jumping out of bed and feeling breathless.

“In the kitchen!!” came the voice from downstairs.

Zim almost shouted in relief as he scurried down the steps, rushing to the kitchen and screeching to a halt when he saw Dib, in his pajamas and an apron, towel wrapped around his wet hair, cooking breakfast.

“Good morning!” Dib said brightly, but his face fell when he finally registered Zim’s panicked expression and his near-hyperventilating breaths. “What's wrong?”

Zim shrank as Dib dropped what he was working on and came over to pull him into a hug.

“You’re shaking," Dib said, pulling back to give him a concerned look. "Was it another nightmare? Fuck, I’m so sorry … you didn’t wake up when I took a shower so I thought you’d be okay for a little bit while I made breakfast.”

Zim shook his head. “I woke up and I thought …” He stopped, catching himself.

_That I’d hallucinated everything from the past two days._

That seemed like a rather concerning thing to tell just about _anyone_.

“I um … I thought that … maybe you’d gone somewhere,” he finished lamely. He looked behind Dib to see GIR working the waffle iron. “Are you keeping an eye on him while he does that?” Zim asked skeptically, eager to direct the conversation elsewhere. “He likes to put things in there when you aren’t looking. Like soap. And one time rat poison. That was not a fun 24 hours.”

“I gave him chocolate chips and sprinkles and told him that he was under strict instructions _not_ to put them in,” Dib said with a conspiratorial smirk.

“So what I’m hearing is that my waffles are going to be 50% chocolate and sprinkles?” Zim asked, finally calming down enough to smile back.

“Oh, 90%, at least.”

Sitting down to a home-cooked breakfast with other people was strangely novel. For once there was no constant din from the TV in the background, GIR was engaging in friendly conversation with Dib about something Zim doubted Dib was keeping up with, but he was doing a good job of faking it. It occurred to Zim that Dib had been doing a good job of _many_ things, and that was before they even got into his apparently hitherto untapped baking skills. It looked like the base had been cleaned while Zim was asleep, seeing as the couch was no longer covered in bits of nacho and the floor didn’t have its usual sticky texture. GIR was out of his dog suit, which could only mean it was currently being laundered. Zim wondered if Dib had managed to find his secret stash of Girlie Ranger cookies or if Dib was just _that_ good with his little robot companion. At this point, neither would have shocked him much. Dib had swept in without being asked and somehow pulled the household back together when Zim was ready to just lock himself in the closet for a week. Or however long it was that it took for PTSD to pass.

“-- Right, Zim?”

Zim looked up from his food, mouth full. “Hwuh?”

“We could sneak GIR in for our last week of school,” Dib said, as if that were a remotely sane assertion. “Dress him up in a little service dog vest for you.”

Zim gave them both a skeptical look and swallowed his mouthful of food. “I’m not so sure that’s going to help with any of my ... wait a second. _Last_ _week_ of school??” he asked suddenly, panicking.

Dib put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You didn’t miss anything. The last two weeks of senior year are basically just for show anyways. It’s not like you missed any surprise senior exams. We’ve just been fucking off.” He smiled and ran his fingers down Zim’s arm, resting his hand on top of Zim’s. “I gotta admit ... I was really worried when you missed cake day last Friday. I guess I’ll just have to make you a graduation cake myself, to make up for it.”

Zim held Dib’s gaze and it felt like Dib was sliding his fingers over and away from Zim’s in slow motion. He wanted to grab Dib’s hand and make him keep it there a little longer.

“I … um …” Zim’s brain had suddenly gone blank. Well, blank of whatever it was that had been bothering him so much just moments before. What it was currently busy doing was playing a loop of grabbing Dib’s hand, pulling him close, and giving him a kiss that probably involved an awful lot of tongue work.

_Chirp!_

Zim covered his mouth, mortified. 

Dib gave him a strange look. “Are you …?”

“Hiccups!!” Zim said quickly. “Just … ate too fast or something. I … err … yeah. Where was I? The passage of time … uh … oh. Yeah. That’s right,” he suddenly muttered darkly, stabbing at the remainder of his food. “Summer. Have you got plans this time around?”

Dib snorted. “You mean with one of my great and many friends who _aren't_ you?” he asked, with good-natured sarcasm.

Zim shoved the rest of his waffles in his face. “You were gone most of last summer,” he grumbled. "I barely got to see you at all and you got _taller_ while you were away." When he looked up, Dib looked more than a little hurt.

“Yeahhh, that would be because I was a _little busy_ being in an abusive relationship with someone who didn't want me around you, Zim,” Dib replied curtly. “Kind of the worst three months of my life. Thanks for the reminder.”

Zim immediately felt guilty and shrunk back. “Sorry … You know I didn't mean it like that.” He looked away nervously, kicking his feet under the table. “I really missed you," he admitted. "Last summer sucked without you."

Dib looked up and placed his hand close to Zim’s. “Yeah … I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you a ton, too.”

Zim looked down at Dib’s hand on the table, taking in the way his black nail polish shimmered purple in the sunlight. Something inside Zim told him to reach out, to hold that hand that sat mere feet from him …

And say _what_ , exactly? It suddenly hit Zim that as much as he felt strongly for Dib, there was no way to see if Dib felt the same without horrifically embarrassing himself. And honestly, if he thought about it, what made him think that Dib had _any_ kind of attraction to intelligent beings outside of his own species? Sure, public school had left him with precious few dating options between the bullies and abusive assholes that Zim would leave unnamed. But Dib would be leaving for college in a few months, leaving Zim behind and probably living in a tiny, closet-sized dorm room with some disgustingly attractive human.

He stared at his empty plate a moment, floundering emotionally before abruptly pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. 

Dib looked over, confused. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just … I want to be alone for a little while,” he whispered before turning and heading up the steps to Dib’s room. It momentarily occurred to him that he was encroaching on Dib’s space, but he didn’t particularly care. It was the only place he could go to sandwich himself between two soft surfaces. Zim wanted all the contact and pressure of being cuddled without having to worry about whether the thing doing the cuddling had feelings for him or not.

He flopped on the bed and shimmied under the blankets, pulling them all the way over his head. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop all of the horrible things swirling around in his brain.

_Stupid. Broken. Unlovable. Failure. Fuck up. Defective._

There was an ache in his chest he’d never felt before, a sort of hollow, cold loneliness that made it hard to think or breathe.

But why should _Zim_ , of all people, be worried about being alone? Hadn’t he set off for Earth alone? Planned world domination alone? He’d proven, back on Hobo 13, that he didn’t need anyone in any capacity. Not teammates. Not even GIR. He was more than capable of working alone, and being successful to boot. He might even say that he was at his best when he was alone.

So why did he feel like his squeedlyspooch was being turned inside-out when he thought of Dib with someone else? Why did merely conjuring up an image of the hypothetical have him quietly sobbing?

He wasn't sure why he'd ever bothered entertaining these thoughts of interspecies romance to begin with. It would never work out between them. Besides, Dib was more than likely just being friendly; Zim was assuredly reading into things that weren’t there. Even the soft “I love you” Zim was positive he had heard while drifting off last night … either he had dreamed it, or Dib never meant it as more than a friendly gesture. Dib cared. Which was nice. But it ended at the friendly sort of caring.

Crying over it hurt, but it was cathartic. At this point, he almost didn’t want to stop. He started seeking out the hurt; excising it, examining it, and using it to dig deeper.

_Stupid, defective, unlovable Zim … Dib will never love you. He feels bad for you. Pity. That’s it. You’re just a burden he feels obligated to carry. He’ll fall in love with someone else. Someone less broken. Someone less insane. Someone taller, even. He didn’t even care enough to come up and see what was wrong. You're a pest and nobody cares what happens to you._

A knock on the door made a sob catch in his throat.

“Zim? Can I come in?”

Zim said nothing, trying to calm his hitching breaths.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come up sooner … I had to clean up the kitchen and you said you wanted to be alone. And I didn’t know if you meant _alone_ -alone, or if you wanted me to chase after you. So I thought maybe I’d give you some time …”

Zim could hear him sliding down the door, sitting heavily on the ground.

“I dunno. I’m really bad at this. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But if you want me to come in and ask you what’s wrong or just … be there, I can be there.”

Zim lay still, trying to sort out what he wanted and half expecting Dib to be gone by the time he did.

“Come in,” he said softly.

He was shocked to hear the door open and Dib quickly walk in. A moment later, the blankets pulled back and Zim buried his head in his arms, not wanting Dib to see how upset he’d been. Dib just hopped up on the bed and coaxed Zim towards him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Dib asked sadly.

“No,” Zim mumbled into his shirt.

Dib rubbed the back of Zim’s neck with light, delicate strokes, and as much as Zim tried to fight it, he felt himself relaxing into Dib’s arms, losing himself in Dib’s scent.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“You’re gonna leave me,” Zim said, lip trembling, close to tears again. He had to say _something_ , and that was what had set him off to begin with, so it was _mostly_ the truth.

“What?” Dib asked, sounding genuinely shocked. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, Zim. What makes you think I’m going to just walk out on you?”

Zim finally looked up, wiping his eyes angrily. “Because at the end of August, you’ll be going to college!”

Dib put a hand on Zim's cheek. “And, what? Are you going to be kicking me out then, or something?” he asked, bewildered.

“Huh? Don’t you have to go live on campus? Go join a frat? Drink shitty alcohol out of red plastic cups?” Zim babbled, feeling like he was missing something.

Dib burst out laughing. “Oh, fuck, I _really_ hope not! If they make me do all that, I’m just gonna drop out right now and go join one of those shitty, fake-ass ghost hunting shows.” He ruffled Zim’s antennae. “I figured I’d keep living with you and just commute back and forth. It’s only a twenty minute drive. Not like it’s gonna kill me.”

Zim collapsed against him. “Oh, thank Irk! I had no idea how I was going to do this without you.”

Dib hugged him close, and it somehow felt different than all the other times Dib had held him.

“You’re stronger and smarter and better than me at just about everything,” Dib said softly, lips suddenly awfully close to Zim’s skin. “What do you need me for?”

Zim looked up and Dib’s face was mere centimeters from his own. His reply caught in his throat. He was about to say that he needed Dib for almost everything; to keep him grounded in reality when he was out in public. To snap him out of a flashback. To take care of basic household needs like cooking and cleaning. But right now, he also needed Dib around as his reason to keep on living. He needed Dib to hold him and comfort him and reassure him that his life was worth something to someone.

He needed Dib’s lips on his, their bodies pressed impossibly close. He needed to share more than just emotional intimacy with Dib; he found himself desperately craving the physical as well. He needed Dib to _only_ belong to him, and he needed Dib to want him back just as badly.

“I need you for a lot of things,” Zim whispered, mouth suddenly dry.

“Good thing I wasn’t planning on filling up my extra time with partying.” Dib stroked Zim’s cheek, movements restrained but strangely intimate. “Wouldn’t want to leave you with no one to snuggle up on at night.”

Before Zim had time to even speculate the motivation behind Dib's strange behavior, Dib’s eyes closed and he pressed his lips to Zim’s, kissing him softly.

Zim froze. Was this really happening?? Had Dib just — entirely unprovoked — leaned in and started making out with him?? And, if so ... _Why weren’t his lips moving‽_ He wanted to kiss back, but it was like his body was too shocked to respond, brain quietly short-circuiting the moment all his private fantasies suddenly manifested in the real world. He’d gone rigid and still, when all he wanted was to tenderly hold his human and kiss him back. All he managed to do was let out a shocked chirp.

Dib opened his eyes and, as he registered Zim’s completely shocked expression, abruptly broke the kiss.

“I’m so sorry,” he squeaked out, hurriedly backing off and looking mortified. “Oh my god …”

They sat in uncomfortable silence, staring at each other; Dib clearly horrified and Zim merely confused.

“I didn’t mean to take advantage of you! I’m just … shit. Sorry. That was a mistake ... I’ll leave you alone,” Dib said, bolting up and hurrying out the door before Zim could even stop him. The door clicked shut and Zim finally broke free from his stupor.

_A mistake._

That’s what Dib thought kissing him was? A _mistake_?? It hadn’t felt like a mistake to _Zim_!

If he had actually reciprocated, would Dib have still felt that way? Or would he merely have realized there was nothing there at all, leaving Zim definitively rejected on top of feeling absolutely miserable?

_I thought I might actually feel something for you, Zim, but now that I’ve tried it out, I realize that there’s absolutely nothing there. Sorry!_

Zim pulled the blankets back over himself, somehow feeling even worse than before. 

* * *

_iii._

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dib maintained a cautious distance from Zim for the rest of the day, finishing up some overdue homework, doing household chores, and even slipping out on his own to pick up dinner. By the end of the day, Zim was a complete nervous wreck. Was Dib mad at him? Did he blame him for their kissing session? Worse yet, Zim found himself even more sure that he was falling for Dib, but less sure than ever of what Dib felt for him. Nonetheless, he desperately wanted to be in contact again. Avoiding each other under the same roof was just getting stupid. Not to mention borderline impossible.

While they sat on opposite ends of the couch in silence during dinner, GIR between them and TV blaring, Zim finally decided he’d had about enough of this nonsense. He sat his food down on the arm of the couch, walked to the other end, and planted himself next to Dib. 

“What are you doing?” Dib asked, chewing his burrito and eyeing Zim nervously. It didn’t escape Zim’s notice that Dib had leaned away.

“Hold me,” Zim demanded, pressing against Dib’s shoulder.

“Zim …”

“I said, hold me,” Zim repeated, eyes squeezed shut.

Dib sighed, but set down his food and pulled Zim into his lap. “So I guess you’re not upset with me?” he said, playing nervously with the ends of Zim’s antennae.

“I thought _you_ were upset with _me_ ,” Zim mumbled.

“Of course not … it was my fault for trying to escalate things. That was the dumbest thing I could have done right now.”

Zim’s heart sunk clear into the lowest level of the base. Great. Now kissing him was _dumb_??

“Sorry I made things weird. I care about you a lot and I guess some lines got blurred,” Dib whispered. “I’ve never had a friend as close as you.”

Fuck being friends. Zim wanted Dib to press close and kiss him like their lives depended on it. He wanted Dib to say, out loud and to Zim's fully-awake face, that he loved him.

But that was clearly never going to happen.

“It’s fine,” Zim said softly, even though it really wasn’t. It was the least fine he’d felt since he escaped Judgementia. “What are we going to do about tomorrow?” he asked, more to change the topic than anything else.

“Well, what do you want?” Dib asked, also seeming relieved to no longer be discussing their ill-fated smooch.

It was, however, a loaded question. There were plenty of things Zim wanted, but he clearly wasn’t going to get most of them.

“To not be alone with myself,” Zim mumbled in reply.

“Okay, so do you want me to stay here with you or do you want to try to go to school?”

“I don’t want you to miss class because of me …”

“Like I said earlier, the whole thing is really just for show at this point,” Dib said with a shrug. “It’s not like they’re going to un-graduate us if we were to, say, call out sick for the day.”

“I don’t want you to do that just so you can _babysit_ me,” Zim grumbled self-consciously.

“It’s not _babysitting_ , silly.”

“Really?” Zim asked, suddenly feeling irritable. “What are we going to spend the day doing, then?”

_Besides_ _**not** _ _kissing and_ _**not** _ _confessing our feelings for each other._

Dib was quiet for a moment while he considered their options. “Ever been theater-hopping?” he asked with a conspiratorial grin.

“Been _what, now_?”

“You know … buy a ticket for one movie and then spend the day hitting up as many movies as you can without leaving.”

Zim perked an antenna. “Are there enough _good_ movies out right now to even warrant that kinda thing?”

Dib booped him between the eyes, making him recoil in surprise.

“That’s the beauty of it. If the movie sucks, you just go find another one,” Dib replied.

“And if something in the movie triggers me?” Zim countered.

Dib deflated. “Oh. _Shit_. That hadn’t occurred to me … I guess I figured that since everything in the movie is fake, it wouldn’t bother you,” he said sheepishly. “I can see how that was a stupid assumption, though …”

Zim felt a little bad for being needlessly combative. “It sounds like a good distraction, honestly. Just … keep an arm around me or something. That’ll ground me enough that we shouldn’t need to worry. You’re also on the hook for sneaking in enough candy and soda to keep me placated through nine hours of movies.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Dib said as Zim relaxed against him.

Zim tried to ignore the emotional agony he was still dealing with. At least he could still get Dib to make physical contact. Now he just had to keep Dib from _ever_ having that with _anyone_ else. How hard could that possibly be?

“Um, Zim?”

“Yeah?” Zim said, a little too eager.

“Are you going to move so I can finish eating?”

Zim leaned over GIR to grab his food from the other side of the couch. “No,” he said, spite filling his belly more than one burrito ever could.

“Alright,” Dib sighed, resigned. “I deserved that.”

By the time they settled in for bed, Zim couldn’t decide if he was upset enough to sleep on the opposite side of the bed, or too upset to be even a foot away from Dib. 

The bathroom light flipped off and Dib walked back into the room. He sat heavily on the side of the bed, staring at the floor instead of continuing on to slide under the covers.

“Zim?” he said, without turning around.

Zim considered pretending to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake.”

_Well, shit._

“You don’t have to answer,” Dib said softly. “I just wanted to clear the air between us, after what I did this morning, since we didn't really finish talking about it. I know this whole topic is an emotional minefield …”

_You absolutely have no idea,_ Zim thought, heart aching.

“But I just want to make sure you know that I really value our friendship and all the ways you’ve been there for me over the years. I owe you, but that’s not why I’m here,” Dib whispered. “I’m here because I care about you. I want you to feel okay coming to me for comfort and not have to worry that I’m angling for anything. I don’t even know what I was thinking, earlier today, because I don’t want a relationship with you.”

Well. At least there wouldn’t be any more confusion on Zim’s part.

“I don’t want to complicate things, or risk losing you,” Dib continued, oblivious to the fact that Zim was focusing too hard on holding back tears to bother paying attention anymore. “Plus, I already know that I’m absolute garbage at relationships.” He laughed sadly, running his fingers nervously through his damp hair. “Even if there was something there, it would be a bad idea. Anyway, I should shut up before I put my foot in my mouth …”

_A little late for that, Dib._

“... I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you need without having to worry about my intentions.”

“Yeah, I think we can both agree there’s no more confusion,” Zim whispered, feeling numb.

“Okay. Good,” Dib said with audible relief. He swung his legs up onto the bed and before he could even lie down, Zim rolled over to face him. Dib put a hand on Zim’s back, but Zim grabbed it and put it on the base of his antenna.

“It’ll help me sleep,” Zim mumbled as an explanation. The faster he fell asleep, the faster he could quit feeling miserable.

Dib ran his fingers down the length of it, pausing when Zim started purring and snuggled in closer.

“Don’t stop, stupid,” Zim mumbled.

“I’d tell you to _be nice_ , but I probably deserved that, too,” Dib said, though it didn’t escape Zim’s notice that he still seemed a little upset.

“Just keep doing that,” Zim said, nuzzling against him. He kind of hated how good it felt to be held and touched by Dib, given the knowledge that all of Zim’s feelings were entirely unreciprocated. Dib curled around him protectively, and Zim’s rapidly fading consciousness brightened ever so slightly. Even though Dib had no intentions of being more than just friends with him, just for right now, maybe Zim could pretend he was loved.


	4. Public Display of Dejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim and Dib go theater hopping. Dib realizes he misread Zim's reaction to his attempted kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a larger chapter, but I've been hitting a little bit of a wall. Apologies for it being a short update.

_ We want hugs not drugs  
Or both, if it's available  
I'll take two  
And you, under the table and  
Let's both get drunk  
And forget the rest, yeah _

[ \- Brendan Maclean,  _ Hugs Not Drugs (Or Both) _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYvIPDzax9M)

* * *

“Are these disguise changes really necessary?” Zim asked as he slipped into an unreasonably sparkly tulle skirt in the bathroom of the local movie theater.

Dib had insisted on bringing different clothes to swap into in case an employee was feeling particularly eagle-eyed and decided to thwart their plans to jump from theater to theater all day.

“It’s probably overkill, but it adds to the intrigue, right?” Dib asked as he pulled on a different hoodie. He re-emerged to find Zim casting him a skeptical look. “Plus, you look cute in a skirt.”

Zim blushed and looked away. It had been a strange day so far and this was the tenth time or so that Dib had said something arguably flirty that Zim didn’t have a proper response to. In all fairness, Zim was also doing his best to push the boundaries of their friendship to its limits by snuggling up next to Dib, head on his shoulder during the past three movies. At no point did Dib attempt to set Zim straight about what was appropriate, and that only served to encourage him further. If there was a line, then by Irk, he was going to find it.

They slipped out of the bathroom and down the quiet hallway towards their next theater, and Zim had to stop himself from grabbing Dib’s hand. He’d never had someone else’s fingers between his and he wanted to know what it felt like. Hand-holding was a uniquely earthling custom that he’d originally found disgusting — so much bodily contact … so many _germs_ — but now he wanted to try it for himself. The idea of visibly denoting someone as _his_ greatly appealed to him.

They set up in the empty theater, Dib lifting the arm between the seats so that Zim could snuggle up next to him. He pulled a soda out of his bag and handed it to Zim, then set an assortment of snacks in his lap. He’d been doing that for every movie, and Zim was, once again, getting mixed signals. He’s stopped asking Dib for things and started just reaching into his lap to take them midway through the first movie. Dib hadn’t complained about the arrangement even once.

The previews finally started to roll on the screen, but everything looked like a blurry double image.

“Did my glasses suddenly stop working, or did we accidentally catch the 3D version?” Dib asked, squinting.

Zim groaned. “Great … I swear to the Tallest, if you make me go dig glasses out of the trash, I’m leaving.”

Dib leaned over and rifled through his bag for a moment. “No need for dumpster diving. I always come prepared.” He pulled out two pairs of the requisite 3D glasses and handed one to a perplexed Zim.

“Do you just … carry these things around??” Zim asked with a quizzical eyebrow raise.

“Yeah, in case of 3D emergencies,” Dib replied with a grin.

Zim scoffed. “You’re so weird,” he said, but he couldn’t help but smile back. He put the glasses on, tucking the arms under his hat to account for his lack of ears.

“You look good in those,” Dib remarked as Zim snuggled back against him. “If you’d worn glasses that first day, I never would have suspected you were an alien.”

Zim turned to look at him. “Really?”

Dib wrapped him in an affectionate hug. “Nah, I still would have known.”

A sudden crescendo in the musical score of the current trailer made Zim jump a mile. He turned back towards the screen and his whole body went rigid. As luck would have it, the trailer was for the one sort of movie Zim had vetoed on account of it being the most likely to set him off.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t know they were gonna play horror movie trailers,” Dib said apologetically. “Come here …”

Zim turned and buried his face in Dib’s hoodie, and Dib gently reached under his hat and unfurled an antenna, gently stroking it in an attempt to calm Zim’s trembling.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you …”

Zim wondered how in the fuck he had gotten to this point. Back on Irk, he would have been required to gut anyone who stood in the way of the Empire’s expansion. Though he supposed he’d always been a tad squeamish, and the things he’d seen when the Control Brains attempted to delete him hadn’t helped.

That was something he’d been keeping from Dib so far. He really didn’t want to go into detail about the extent of R&D’s experimentation on smeets, and he certainly didn’t want to discuss what he’d seen regarding the first implementation of PAKs. Suffice to say, the whole process had a rather unnerving body count. But all of these thoughts were melting away and flowing out of him with each stroke of his antenna. He could hear Dib murmuring above him but couldn’t make anything out. He felt like he was short-circuiting in the most enjoyable way possible.

He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been mentally gone for when Dib suddenly pulled his hand back.

“It’s over. Well, all three of the ones they showed at once are over,” Dib grumbled, irritated on Zim’s behalf. “Are you okay?”

“I want to sit on your lap,” Zim blurted without thinking.

Dib gave him a look that was impossible to decipher. “Look, Zim, I think _maybe_ our boundaries have been getting a little blurry,” Dib said, choosing his words carefully.

“What boundaries?” Zim asked, leaning his way into Dib’s lap.

Dib quickly propped him back up and pushed him back into his seat. “Yeah, see, that’s _exactly_ the problem.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Zim said with a shrug. Dib started to mutter something, lifting a hand to gesture, but Zim abruptly put his head under it and silenced Dib with a rather pointed look. “You said you wanted me to feel comfortable asking for what I need. Well … _I’m asking_.”

Dib stared for a moment longer, then sighed. He looked over the back of their seats to ensure that they were still alone in the theater, then motioned Zim up. “Alright. Stand up a second.”

He transferred all their snacks to the neighboring chair with their bags, kicked his shoes off, and put his feet up on the seat Zim had just vacated.

“Lap’s all yours.”

Before he had even finished the sentence, Zim had sprung onto him, settling in like an oversized cat. Dib wrapped his arms around him as the movie started rolling, but he wasn’t in the mood to pay attention anymore. Actually, Dib was starting to feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

He had clearly misread Zim’s shock the other day, having initially taken it to mean Zim’s cuddling had been purely platonic. But ever since Dib had assured him that it had all been a mistake, Zim had been decidedly moody and even _more_ insistent that Dib provide him with physical comfort. Zim was a little socially stunted by human metrics but, at this point, his intentions were wildly clear. It was just a shame that Dib wasn’t going to be able to reciprocate.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings for Zim. He undeniably _did_ , and they were getting harder to ignore every time Zim snuggled up on him. But Dib’s singular dating experience had left him both traumatized and doubtful of his own abilities to be an even remotely healthy partner. He wasn’t about to throw away his only close friendship. He and Zim were functioning fine as friends, so that was the way things were staying. If he fucked up another relationship and permanently lost his best friend, he wasn’t sure he would be able to cope. Zim had somehow become his singular reason for continued existence.

A sudden explosion in the movie made him jump slightly, but Zim was purring away, unbothered. It took Dib a moment to realize that he’d been stroking Zim’s antenna on instinct. He almost stopped, but he realized that, as long as he kept Zim complacent and borderline hypnotized, he could cuddle guilt-free. Zim wouldn’t be angling for anything further and Dib could just enjoy the closeness and relax for once.

He looked down at Zim, whose eyes were closed, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He looked genuinely happy. Dib had to wonder if anyone doing this would provoke a similar response, or if Zim was stuck in perpetual happy mode because it was him. He gently rested his head on top of Zim’s, just to test how it felt to be close. 

_Fuck_.

It felt good. _Really_ good. _So_ damn good, he was starting to rethink all his prior reasoning. Maybe they’d be fine; maybe they’d keep cuddling at night and holding each other every moment of the day and nothing much would change except that they could be honest about their intentions. Maybe they’d keep helping each other heal until they grew into different, healthier people who were no less in love with each other.

Or maybe Dib would fuck it all up, just like he’d done to his last relationship. 

The way things had ended were undeniably his fault — his boyfriend had told him as much during the break up. Dib was crazy and demanding and kept pushing the boundaries of his partner's comfort by maintaining his close friendship with Zim. He didn’t listen. His depressive episodes were too much. He was turned up to eleven when he wasn’t depressed. He was asking a lot of a partner, expecting them to completely avoid some parts of his body on some days, while on other days he was “fine”. Everything about him was too much, too confusing, too high-maintenance. 

Before Dib could pull himself out of his emotional death spiral, his mind started replaying the day he’d been dumped. Even though he knew that he was physically sitting in a movie theater, holding Zim, and temporally about a year removed from the events playing out in his mind’s eye, emotionally, he was right there with them. He tried to regulate his breathing, but focusing on his body in any way was a different sort of hell. He focused, instead, on the little Irken purring away in his arms.

Zim’s antennae were excellent tactile feedback, and focusing on petting them helped ground Dib a little better. They were smooth enough that his fingers slid easily over them, but they were covered in slight bumps and imperfections. Dib focused on that detail instead of his breathing. Even better, he put a hand on Zim’s back and focused on Zim’s breathing. Like a cat, his purring seemed to be uninterrupted by his breaths, and Dib’s mind slowly slipped into scientist mode, curious how Zim could make all these noises without it seeming to impede his ability to breathe or talk. It was strange to think that, had he succeeded in his original plan to capture Zim and take him apart -- a plan that now left him feeling ill whenever it crossed his mind -- he might never have even known that Zim was capable of purring and chirping. He wouldn’t have even known to look for the structures involved.

He shifted slightly, suddenly aware of how perfectly Zim’s body fit against his own and how nice it felt to have Zim’s weight on top of him. It was warm and comforting in a way that went even deeper than their normal bedtime snuggling sessions. This felt like Zim was his, and he couldn't ignore just how badly he wanted that to be true.

He loved Zim, and it hurt.

He somehow managed to completely lose track of time, his mind floating in a discordant sea of utter bliss and worrying confusion. When he finally looked up from Zim, he realized the credits had started rolling on the screen. He let go of Zim’s antenna and moved back into a position that was slightly less affectionate. Zim shifted as he woke up, then looked up to give Dib an accusatory look.

“You let me nap through the whole thing??” he asked, handing his glasses back to Dib.

Dib reached down to tuck Zim’s antennae back under his hat. “What are you grumpy about? It’s not like we paid for it. Plus, you seemed like you could use the rest.”

Zim mumbled something unintelligible and then chugged the rest of his soda, finishing with a visible hiccup as Dib picked up their belongings.

They made their way back out into the parking lot, where the sun was already most of the way down behind the horizon. The clouds were still slightly pink, but the streetlights were already on, casting an amber glow across the pavement and humming faintly, the buzz of early summer cicadas almost drowning them out. A strange, sad nostalgia swirled disquietingly in Dib’s stomach.

“Hey, Dib!” Zim called. He had skipped along a little ahead of him and past his car.

“Hey what?” Dib asked as he strolled closer.

“Those firebugs you like so much are out,” Zim replied, pointing into the trees at the edge of the parking lot.

Dib stifled a grin. Zim could be cute when he wasn’t being a pest “You mean fireflies. Or lightning bugs. A firebug is what you are.”

“Eh?” Zim said, still watching the bugs blinking in the trees.

“A pyromaniac,” Dib replied, laughing as Zim turned around and gave him a withering look.

“That was one— wait. No. Twice. It was only _two times_ , Dib!” he said, exasperated.

The sunset was reflected back at Dib in Zim’s purple contact lenses and he watched as a gentle breeze ruffled Zim’s shimmery skirt. Why did he have to be attracted to every aberrant, alien, socially non-conforming thing about Zim? All the ways Zim didn't fit in with normal society, all the ways his human mask slipped, just made him that much more desirable to Dib.

“What’s that look for?” Zim asked, making Dib snap out of his thoughts.

“Let’s drive out and go watch the fireflies,” Dib said before he’d fully thought through the implications of what he was suggesting.

Zim looked confused. “But there are fireflies here …”

Dib unlocked his car. “Yeah, but there are _more_ fireflies out at the edge of town.”

Zim made a big show of rolling his eyes and plodding over, but he opened the door and got in. He abruptly started fiddling with the stereo.

“Did you just kick my phone off the Bluetooth?” Dib asked as they started down the road.

“Yes, because I know you’re going to put on something somber and completely ruin the mood,” Zim said, scrolling through his playlists. He selected one of them and watched as Dib raised an eyebrow as the opening hook to “I Love It” played.

“Don’t give me that look,” Zim said defensively. “I know this is one of your favorites, too.” He turned up the volume and kicked back in his seat, singing to himself.

They drove out past the mall, into the part of town that was mainly farmland and hiking trails, where the only significant light came from the moon overhead. Fireflies flirted around in the tall grass on either side of the road, but Dib was headed for a little grove that he knew would be absolutely thick with them. He pulled into the gravel parking lot of one of the hiking trails and rifled around in the back seat, pulling a quilt out of one of the foot wells.

“Have I ever taken you out here to watch the fireflies?” Dib asked as they got out of the car.

“I don’t think you’ve ever taken me to see them _anywhere_ specific before,” Zim said. “Usually they’re just kind of … around.”

“Well, I think you’re going to love this,” Dib said as he shook the quilt out on a patch of grass. “There are so many out here. It’s crazy.”

He flopped down and patted the spot next to him. He felt somewhat guilty that he’d just told Zim that he didn’t have to worry that there were any ulterior motives, and here he was trying to get Zim to cuddle with him by romantic firefly light. He didn't want to stop and think too much about what the hell it was he was trying to do.

“You want me to lay on my back?” Zim asked with a pointed look.

“Oh, shit. I always forget that’s not the best position for you,” Dib said, rushing to pull his hoodie off. “Here, I think we can put this under your lower back. Make it a little comfier.”

Zim made his way over and Dib guided him down so that the hoodie was under Zim’s back and his arm supported Zim’s neck and shoulders. Zim looked up at Dib, whose heart was pounding so loudly he could scarcely hear even the cicadas.

“Comfy?” he asked, mouth suddenly dry.

Zim nodded. “I can work with this.”

Dib melted as Zim willingly snuggled up against him, head resting on his shoulder. Fireflies blinked in the trees overhead, finally coming back out now that the car’s headlights had been dark for a couple minutes. The gradual chorus of crickets, katydids, and some distant frogs began to fill the air again, as well. Several fireflies flitted just above their heads and Zim rolled closer to Dib, flashing his PAK back at them and grinning.

“You realize that’s a mating display, right? You’re gonna end up with a bunch of bugs dying to jump your bones,” Dib said with a laugh.

Zim pressed slightly closer. “Mm, are you jealous?” he purred softly, eyes half-lidded. His hat had fallen off when he turned and his antennae hung just above their heads.

“What, of the lightning bugs?” Dib asked, going red.

Zim propped his head up on his arm and looked down at Dib, gaze strangely soft, eyes searching. He reached out and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind Dib’s ear. Dib suddenly felt like he’d gotten himself in a bit too deep. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“You like me,” Zim said softly.

Dib opened his mouth but no words came out. His heart was in his throat and as he looked into Zim’s eyes, he knew that he couldn’t lie. Zim would call him on it in an instant.

“Don’t deny it,” Zim whispered. “And don’t freak out … I like you, too. Maybe more than like …” Zim put a hand on Dib’s cheek as the fireflies blinked around them.

“Zim … we can’t,” Dib said hoarsely.

“You brought me out into the woods, at night, to cuddle up and watch the blinky bugs try to find mates, and then you act like your plan _isn’t_ to confess your feelings?” Zim said with an accusatory eyebrow raise.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to do,” Dib admitted, slumping back against the ground. “I’m so conflicted right now. I like you … like, _a whole fucking lot_ … but I also think this might be a bad idea …”

Zim scoffed and laid back down, arms crossed. “Don’t give me that tripe about how we can _only_ be friends, again,” he said irritably.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Dib stammered. He wanted Zim in a romantic way so badly, but he was more afraid of fucking things up between them and Zim being cut from his life forever.

Zim sighed and looked back up at him. “You aren’t going to lose me, Dib. I’m right here,” he said plaintively.

“I … fuck,” Dib groaned, frustrated with himself and his half baked plan to woo his friend. "This is complicated. I don't know what you want from me."

"It's really _not that complicated_ and I just want you to definitively say that you want to be with me." Zim said it like was so easy.

“What would it even change?" Dib asked quietly, looking up at the sky. "What would we even do that we aren’t _already_ doing?”

Before he’d even properly finished his sentence, Zim leaned over and kissed him. It was sloppy and tentative, but there was unabashed affection behind it.

This time, it was Dib's turn to be too stunned to move.

“Kiss me back, stupid,” Zim mumbled, gently biting his lower lip. “I know you want to.”

Zim ran his fingers through Dib’s hair and Dib finally wrapped his arms around Zim and kissed back. The voice in his head that told him this was a bad idea was growing smaller and smaller as Zim shifted on top of him, kissing his way across Dib’s jaw and down his neck so he could nuzzle against him.

“What I want is more of _that_ ,” Zim whispered. He slid his hand into Dib's and squeezed it gently. “I want to hold your hand. In public, so everyone can see. I want to be the only one you're close like this with. I want you to be _my_ Dib.”

Dib closed his eyes tightly and hugged Zim protectively.

“What are you so scared of?” Zim asked gently.

“I really fucked up my last relationship and I care about you so much,” Dib murmured.

“Stop saying that,” Zim mumbled against his neck.

“That I care about you?” Dib asked, confused.

“No, that the dysfunctional relationship you were in was your fault,” Zim replied, sitting up slightlyand resting his chin on his arms. “Trigger was beneath you. A worm. _He_ treated _you_ badly. Any craziness you experienced was purely down to proximity to _him_.”

“And yet, he still was the one who broke up with me,” Dib mumbled. “Do you have any idea how shitty it feels to be told that the other person was the toxic one, when they’re also the person who decided that _you_ were too much trouble?”

Zim looked skeptical. “I don’t think that was why --”

“ _Yes_ , it was,” Dib said, cutting him off. “I _know_ because he told me straight to my face!”

“He was full of lies,” Zim insisted.

“How the fuck would _you_ know, Zim?” Dib said irritably. “I barely saw you at all that summer and you never saw Trigger outside of the first time you met.”

Zim looked suddenly sheepish. “Um, about that …”

“What?” Dib asked, bewildered. 

Zim buried his face in his hands. “I have to tell you something but you have to promise you won’t be mad …”

“Well, that depends _entirely_ on what you have to tell me,” Dib replied guardedly.

"It's kind of a long story ..."

"You can't just cut to the chase?"

"No, I cant!" Zim exclaimed, frazzled and reaching to tug at his antennae. "I know last summer was about you and not me, but I've never told you how bewildering and worrying it was to watch you fucking deteriorate over the course of three months!"

Dib shrunk back slightly.

"Now, can you _please_ just promise you'll try to understand where I'm coming from? If you can't promise not to be mad, at least promise me that."

Dib stared into Zim's eyes and saw his own conflicted expression staring back at him.

"Okay," he finally replied. "I'll listen. And I'll try to put myself in your shoes."

Zim snorted. "As if you could fit in them."

Dib rolled his eyes and held him tight. "I can never tell if you're being obtuse to be funny or if your grasp on idioms is really that bad," Dib mumbled into his shoulder.

"It's a separate area of language processing and there's a little bit of lag," Zim insisted. "Now, do you want me to tell you or not?"

"Tell me ... but don't move. I think cuddling will soften the blow," Dib said, hoping Zim couldn't see how deeply he was blushing as Zim snuggled against him.

Zim kissed his neck. “Good. Because I’m not moving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went theater hopping only once and it was by myself. I was probably more paranoid than I needed to be. I timed things so that I could go see Pet Semetary and then follow it up with Shazam. I waited in the bathroom for a stupid amount of time before heading to the second theater, and I took a seat out of the way and hoped no one would tell me to move or ask for my ticket. Everything was going great until the previews started ... and I realized I was in the 3D showing of Shazam.
> 
> I sat through it (I'm legally blind without my glasses and have a pretty bad astigmatism, so it was just like watching a movie without my glasses), and to this day, the only way I've seen Shazam was horrifically out of focus.


	5. Gas Light & Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim finally reveals his version of last summer's events. Dib has a choice to make about being Zim's mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: emotional abuse/mental abuse/relationship abuse/self harm

_Life is not a love song that we like_  
_We're all broken pieces floating by_  
_Life is not a love song, we can try_  
_To fix our broken pieces one at a time_

-[ Lovelytheband, _broken_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qr1-WpWOUk8)

* * *

_I._

_[The previous summer]_

“So I’ve just about got the ship packed,” Zim said, trotting along beside Dib as they made their way off the school grounds. Summer vacation had finally arrived, and Zim had promised to take Dib on an off-planet vacation. “We can head out as soon as tomorrow.”

“Gonna have to take a rain check,” Dib said with a grin.

Zim gave him a curious look. “Why? Did your family decide to suddenly stop being terrible for long enough to plan something?”

Dib stuck out his tongue. “Bleh, no. They’re still terrible. I’ve just got a date tomorrow.”

Zim’s heart did a sudden backflip. “A date?” he chirped. “As in … a _date_ -date?”

Dib nodded, giddy.

“I … didn’t know you even _liked_ anyone,” Zim mumbled.

“I mean, I didn’t,” Dib admitted. “But Trigger stopped me in the hall earlier today and asked if I wanted to go out, and I’m not about to turn down the _one person_ who’s shown interest in me.”

Zim scoured his memory for anyone with that name, but came up empty-handed. “Who the fuck is Trigger?” he asked, bewildered and a touch irritated.

“He’s in the grade above us.”

“As in, a senior who just graduated?” Zim shook his head, disappointed in Dib more than anything. He'd assumed his friend was smarter than this. “Dib, this is a recipe for disaster.”

“It’s just one date,” Dib replied with a shrug.

“What if you fall for him and then he leaves for college in three months?” Zim asked. “I’m going to be up _all night_ while you cry on me over 12 gallons of Jen & Barry’s ice cream and terrible 80’s romance movies.”

“Sounds like a good night.”

Zim glared. “Worse yet," he continued, "what if you just _abandon me_ all summer??”

“ _Pfft_ , as if I’d do that,” Dib said, waving him off. “Even if we date, it’s not like he’s gonna replace you.”

Zim just crossed his arms, looking sullen.

“Who’s gonna take me on trips to the other side of the galaxy if I replace you?” Dib asked.

“But now you’re going to have to split all your time between two people!” Zim moaned.

“This sort of codependency is why we’re each other’s only friends,” Dib pointed out.

“And it should stay that way!”

“It’s not healthy …”

“Says who??”

“Uh, pretty much the entire field of psychiatry?”

Zim scoffed and angrily kicked a rock down the sidewalk. He didn’t have anyone else but GIR. Why was Dib allowed to go off and spend time with other people??

“I’m not replacing you, Zim,” Dib said gently.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Zim snapped. “You don’t even _like_ him, Dib! Why are you wasting time on _him_ that could be spent traveling with _me_??”

Dib abruptly stopped and grabbed Zim’s sleeve. “Okay, sit. We need to talk.” Dib sat down on the curb and looked expectantly up at a confused Zim before digging around in his bag and pulling out a can of soda. “I was gonna wait until we got to your place, but you clearly need it now.”

Zim took it and sat down, still looking a little irritated.

“Nobody has expressed any interest at all in me since I started transitioning,” Dib admitted softly. “Even if I don’t particularly have any interest in him, it’s nice to feel wanted and attractive to somebody.”

Zim suddenly felt a little bad for telling Dib he was ugly and smelly for all those years. He chugged his soda so he wouldn’t be tasked with filling the silence that hung heavy in the air between them. 

“And I figure it’s a good low-stakes way to try dating,” Dib said with a shrug.

Zim slumped up against Dib’s shoulder and looked up plaintively. “I’ve gotten used to having you around and not needing to share you,” he mumbled self-consciously.

“You might not need to adjust. Maybe this date will suck,” Dib said off-handedly.

Zim secretly hoped that it would. Not because he wanted Dib’s confidence to take a blow but because having Dib to himself made him feel safe. He didn’t like the prospect of Dib spending emotional energy on another person, and just thinking about Dib being romantically close with someone made his squeedlyspooch twist into a knot.

“Where are you going tomorrow? You don’t even know this person. I hope you’re not letting him take you to a secondary location,” Zim said worriedly. He’d heard that your chances of being found alive dropped dramatically if you were taken to a secondary location, so he was having absolutely none of that.

“Out for dinner and a movie. Standard date stuff,” Dib replied.

“Who’s driving?”

“Uh, he is,” Dib said, looking sheepish under Zim’s judgy gaze.

“Hmm …” was all Zim said in reply. He knocked back the rest of his soda, feeling emotionally wounded.

“Okay, how about this? I’ll get picked up and dropped at your place. That way you can meet Trigger and you’ll know when I’ve made it back,” Dib said.

Zim would have preferred that this not be going on at all but he had to appreciate that Dib was genuinely trying to compromise and seemed to respect his concerns.

“Okay, fine. I can deal with that,” Zim finally conceded. He looked up and Dib was smiling at him. “What?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“It’s cute how much you care about me,” Dib said innocently.

Zim sighed heavily and crushed his can against the concrete. “I worry. So sue me,” he grumbled. “I don’t want something bad to happen and push you over the edge. I’m always worried about losing you.”

Zim knew, on some level, that the way he was acting was unfair. He was needy and possessive and clingy, and that was a highly unstable position to be in as Dib’s friend. As soon as Dib so much as made other friends, Zim only stood to lose and get hurt. Nonetheless, he was prepared to stand by Dib and at least make sure he wasn’t about to wander off with a psycho.

When Saturday night rolled around, he was in full guard-dog mode. He’d been following Dib around while he got ready, pressing him for details about his date, and he'd even gone as far as attempting to enforce a curfew. He was beginning to suspect that Dib had come to regret negotiating with him.

“If I don’t hear from you by midnight, I’m calling the police,” Zim told him, sitting on the bathroom counter while Dib brushed his teeth. “I’ve already got a copy of your license, but I’m snapping a photo of Gunnar’s car, and that includes the plates and the VIN.”

“Oh my god, Zim …” Dib groaned, toothbrush still protruding from his mouth. “First of all, it’s Trigger. Second, I’m not asking this guy I _barely know_ if my weirdly overprotective friend can take photos of his car’s details, you nut.”

“But you admit you barely know him! Which is exactly why I _should_ be getting those things!” Zim insisted.

Before Dib could answer, the doorbell rang, and Zim shot off the counter and out the door. He heard Dib call after him but he was determined to get to Trigger and shake him down a little before this absolute stranger walked off with his Dib.

He opened the door to find a tall, pale boy, decked out in a band tee, skinny jeans, bracelets covering both wrists, and more metal in his face than even Dib had. If this boy had exuded even an iota of grace, Zim would have said he was willowy. As it was, he was leaning more towards describing Dib’s potential partner as “gangly”.

“Uh, have I got the right house?” Trigger asked as he shifted to peer behind Zim. “I’m looking for Dib?”

“He’s upstairs,” Zim said stonily, still looking the boy up and down.

“Cool … Uh, I’m Trigger. I’m here to pick Dib up for our date?”

He smiled, but Zim narrowed his eyes. “Mhmm …”

A long, tense pause passed over them and Trigger looked incredibly uncomfortable. Which was just fine with Zim. Everything was going according to _his_ plan, at least.

“You’re … Zim, right?” Trigger offered. “I’ve seen you around but I know we’ve never, like …”

“ _I’ve_ never seen _you_ around,” Zim said, cutting him off and leaning casually against the doorframe. “ _No idea_ you existed until Dib mentioned you. You know, I’m not even sure why a graduated senior—”

“ _Zim._ ”

He turned around to see Dib standing in the living room with a completely gobsmacked expression.

“Was he being rude to you?” Dib asked, striding briskly over to the door and pushing past Zim so he could stand between his overprotective friend and his date. “I am _so_ sorry …”

Trigger laughed. “It’s no problem. He’s just looking out for his buddy. I get it.”

Zim cringed hard at “ _buddy_ ”.

“Are you convinced he isn’t a serial killer now?” Dib demanded, turning to Zim.

“Once I get his plates and his VIN, I will be,” Zim said curtly, pushing past both of them.

“Zim!” Dib went to grab his arm but Trigger stopped him.

“Oh, let him do it, dude,” Trigger said with a laugh. “If it makes him feel better, it’s all good.”

Dib sighed as Zim trotted over to the 1999 Toyota Corolla and proceeded to photograph it from every conceivable angle. He snapped several photos of the plates and identification number before he was satisfied.

“Want a ‘last seen’ photo as well?” Trigger asked with a good-natured smile as Zim trotted back up the walkway.

Zim eyed him warily and skirted around his outstretched arms. “Mm, nah. I’m good. There are twelve cameras facing the porch alone, so I think I’m covered.”

Dib looked a little like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

“Should we head out?” Trigger asked, oblivious.

“Yes. _Please_ ,” Dib said with palpable relief.

“You’re going to text me before midnight, yes?” Zim asked, still looking skeptical.

“ _Yes_ , Zim. If only to get you off my fucking back. Jesus,” Dib muttered.

“Nice to meet you, Zim!” Trigger called as they turned to walk away. “I’ll try to get Dib back to you in one piece.”

Zim growled under his breath and stood in the doorway until they got into the car and pulled away from the house. When the taillights disappeared into the distance, he finally turned and went back inside. Everything hurt and he just wanted to escape for a little while.

Well, if Zim was being honest with himself, what he _really_ wanted to do was incessantly hound Dib over text until he gave up on this stupid date all together. But he also didn’t want Dib to absolutely despise him by the time he got home. He curled up on the couch and flipped through the movies he had available before finally settling on _Alien_. It was ironic, which he appreciated, and just scary enough to distract him while Dib was away. Plus, he could picture Trigger's head on the unfortunate Kane's body.

Every time he wanted to check his phone, he forced himself not to reach for it. What did he _really_ hope to accomplish by being a pest? Dib was never going to take _him_ out for dinner and a movie. Not like _that_ , at least. He could spend all of his life chasing away Dib’s potential partners, but where would _that_ leave the two of them?

The first movie was over much too soon, so he queued up the prequel and went to fetch some popcorn. Movie night wasn’t nearly as much fun by himself. He would have expected to at least have GIR, but GIR had gone AWOL again so he was completely alone tonight. He was starting to feel like a genuine loser. His closest friend had someone romantically interested in him, and even his robot minion somehow had things to do and people to see and places to go tonight. Why did nobody love or care about _Zim_?? The only person who had ever shown a bit of interest in him was Tak, and that had all been a ruse, so it didn’t really count for anything. Though Zim had to admit, he'd learned 1,001 ways _not_ to court a human.

Midway through the second movie, Zim was shocked to hear his phone ring. He scrambled to dig it out of his hoodie and picked up as soon as he saw it was Dib.

“Are you alright??” he blurted.

“Whoa, calm down,” Dib said with a laugh. “The movie just ended and Trigger said I should call you so you know I’m not dead.”

“Oh,” Zim said, feeling stupid. “That was … _considerate_ of him.”

“Zim says thank you,” Dib said, clearly speaking to Trigger.

“Just looking out for you, buddy!” Trigger yelled back.

Zim rolled his eyes. If no one ever called him “ _buddy_ ” again, it would be too soon. 

“I’ll be home in fifteen minutes, alright?” Dib said.

“Okay … thanks for actually calling. I appreciate it,” Zim said softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Counting down the minutes to Dib coming home was somehow worse. He put the movie back on, but even the jumpscares couldn’t draw his attention away from the clock. The moment fifteen minutes had passed, he made his way over to the windows and peeked through the blinds. Trigger’s Corolla was sitting in the cul-de-sac, idling, but no one was getting out. Zim felt like screaming. He’d been on his absolute best behavior and all that had happened was that he was clearly going to lose Dib to this … _chummy interloper_.

The passenger door finally popped open and Zim hopped back up on the couch. He swung his legs up over the back of the couch and hung his head down the front of it, hoping the position conveyed how little he cared for anything. He didn’t move at all when the front door opened and Dib walked in.

“Watching _Alien_ without me?” Dib said with a grin. “You absolute monster.”

Zim paused the movie and Dib flopped down beside him.

“Aren’t you going to ask how things went?” Dib asked, verbally prodding Zim in areas that were already emotionally tender.

“I was guessing it went good,” Zim mumbled. “Figured I don't need to ask. You seem happy.”

“More than that … Fuck. Zim, I think I might actually like him,” Dib said, draping himself over the back of the couch. “He was so sweet and just let me talk and talk about myself and my dreams and my passions—”

Zim sat up and cocked his head. _He_ already did all of those things for Dib. What the hell did Dib need _Trigger_ for?

“— and he seems so emotionally vulnerable and it’s nice to sit down and talk to someone who’s just _real_ , you know?”

Zim forced a smile. “Sounds nice. So you’re going to see him again?”

“As much as possible,” Dib said dreamily.

Zim just silently bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“As much as possible while working around _our_ schedule, I mean,” Dib amended quickly.

“So … when do you want to leave?” Zim asked, finally feeling like they might be able to get back into their old rhythm, with or without Dib's new beau. “The ship is all packed. We can leave whenever.”

Dib sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Let’s push the trip back a bit, okay? I want to establish things with Trigger a little better before I go zipping off for a week with some other guy.”

Zim genuinely bristled for the first time all night. “I’m not _just_ ‘some other guy’, Dib," he shot back, indignant.

Dib laughed nervously. “Uh, okay. My apologies. What are you, then?”

“I’m … I’m …” Zim sputtered, struggling for words. “I’m your _friend_ and more importantly, I’m your fucking house mate who needs to go to bed now so …” He waved his hands at Dib. “Go. Off to bed with you. Let Zim sleep.”

Dib gave him a strange look. “Jeez, Zim. What's your damage?"

"No damage. I'm just tired," Zim snapped.

"I thought you were physically incapable of going to bed before 2am?”

Zim shut off the TV, yanked a blanket off the back of the couch, and curled up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed now. Turn the light off on your way out.”

Dib opened his mouth, but thought better of it. He stood up and walked over to the light switch. “Um … okay. Goodnight, Zim. I guess.”

“G’night,” Zim grunted.

As the room was plunged into darkness and Dib’s footsteps faded away, a million thoughts and feelings vied for control of Zim’s heart and mind. Most of them were too complex to even begin to articulate and he was too angry to try. Why did Dib have to decide to start dating _now_?? It was cutting into Zim’s summer plans and it was going to make Dib unbearable to be around. Well, if he saw enough of Dib for it to even get to that point.

He _really_ didn’t want to cut right to the heart of why he felt so awful. Nothing good would come of it. It's not like he could ever convince Dib to be with him. He would have been happy just to have Dib completely to himself in a platonic sense, as long as no one came along to fill the romantic aspect. But now that someone had filled that position, Zim didn’t know what to do. He already felt like he was losing Dib and there was no way to stop it.

He fell asleep agitated and unsettled, dreaming of a time when it could be just Dib and himself, with no untimely interlopers.

* * *

_II._

The first week of Dib's relationship had been irritating, but at that point, Zim still had hope that they could make things work. Dib seemed completely enamored with Trigger so there was clearly going to be no convincing him to just up and drop him. Seeing Dib happy with someone else utterly sucked and it hurt him in ways he couldn't put into words no matter how hard he tried. Despite trying to convince himself that he just wanted Dib to be happy, he always came back to the realization that he wanted Dib to be happy with _him_. They still had their time together when Dib came back at night, and Zim savored every movie night and group cooking session.

That is, up until the proceeding weeks when Dib stopped coming back at reasonable hours, then started coming back scarcely at all, and all communication cut down to a carefully rationed trickle. By the two month point, he was lucky if Dib texted him back within the hour, and luckier still if he caught Dib coming home. Texting Dib until he got a response only seemed to incite anger, and Dib was hardly even interested in having a conversation when he finally arrived home. Zim had taken to doing small trips off-planet by himself, just to keep his brain occupied. 

At present, he was visiting his favorite mini solar system. He used to take out his frustrations on the tiny worlds, gripping tight to the tenuous control he had over literally anything in the universe. But these days, he was more apt to sculpt new worlds and set them in orbit, or drop some snacks for the tiny inhabitants and watch them flock to the food like ducks. He felt like a lesser-known benevolent deity, which was its own special power trip. He just wished he could have the same influence back on earth. Right now, it seemed like nothing he did could even make Dib _happy_ , much less make Dib stick around him for more than 5 minutes.

And the times he _was_ able to catch Dib for more than a few minutes had very rapidly stopped being pleasant. Dib was unreasonably guarded about where he had been at any given point, snappish, and borderline paranoid. Zim supposed Dib had _always_ kind of bordered on paranoia, but this was different all together. Any trust he’d had in Zim seemed to have evaporated overnight. Zim had genuinely considered reaching out to Gaz or Dib’s lackluster father, but he wasn’t sure it would do any good, and he was moderately _certain_ that it might make things even worse. Though he struggled to conceptualize what could be worse than the current situation.

“You have … ONE unread text message,” his ship suddenly announced cheerily through his space suit’s comm.

Zim turned around so quickly that he almost sent himself into an inescapable, perpetual summersault.

“From who?” he asked, grabbing onto the ship.

“Dib Membrane.”

At that, Zim quickly climbed back inside his ship and dug his phone out from behind the pilot’s seat. When he read it over, he felt his heart sink.

_“Where are you right now? We need to talk.”_

That didn’t sound good. Somehow, he doubted Dib was massaging him to apologize for his atrocious behavior in recent weeks. He decided on a vague, “I’m out at the moment,” for a response.

Dib replied more quickly than he had just about ever. 

_“How soon can you be back?”_

Upon reading that, Zim was tempted to just throw his phone into the vast reaches of space and never come back.

 _“In a couple hours.”_ He wondered if he ought to be a bit less curt as he hit send. But it wasn’t exactly like Dib had afforded him that luxury of late.

_“Good. I’ll be waiting.”_

There was a lot Zim would rather do than face down Dib right about now. Going back to Irk was pretty high on the list. Go back to Foodcourtia, maybe. Throw himself into the sun, perhaps.

Nevertheless, he set a course back towards earth.

He spent most of the two-hour-long journey getting himself worked up over what Dib could possibly want to talk about, and by the time he finally arrived back at the base, he found himself missing the days when a confrontation with Dib meant a public fist fight outside of McMeaty’s. He took his sweet time getting out of his ship, fully expecting Dib to be in his bedroom that adjoined the ship’s bay. But as he finally stepped through the door, he was shocked to find the room not only lacking Dib, but also all of Dib’s things.

The bed was made, but the pillows were gone, along with the smaller throws Dib kept at the foot of the bed. His laptop, charging cables, alarm clock, and various odds and ends had all disappeared. Zim dashed to the bureau and pulled all the drawers out, finding each one of them empty. He stumbled to his feet, breathless, and shakily made his way downstairs, where Dib was standing awkwardly by the front door.

“Why are you leaving??” Zim asked, panicked. He wanted to approach Dib, but he felt frozen at the other side of the room from him.

“I could hear you tearing through all the furniture and you’re seriously asking me why I’m leaving?” Dib asked, arms crossed.

“Excuse me??” Zim wasn’t sure where the fuck _that_ had come from. 

“You’re _always_ up in my space, _always_ judging me and keeping tabs on me when it’s _none of your fucking business_ what I do or where I go or when I fucking come home or who I fucking date.”

Zim just stared at him. “I’m … what?” he asked, bewildered. “You’re leaving because I complained about not seeing you enough?? That doesn’t make any sense!!”

“I'm _leaving_ because you're trying to interfere with _my life_. You just want to get between me and Trigger and it’s not even like you’re trying to hide it anymore,” Dib said snidely.

Zim’s rage erupted so quickly, he didn’t even have time to think before the words were flying from his mouth. “Oh, because he’s clearly being _such_ a great influence on you?? Because you’re always in such a _stellar_ mood when you get back from being with him for 72 hours straight?? Get your head out of your ass, Dib!” Zim growled.

“My head?? Your head’s so far up your ass, you’re practically a fucking singularity!” Dib shot back.

“Up my own ass about _what_??” Zim demanded.

Dib laughed harshly, pressing his hands against his face. “God, you’re the least self-aware person I’ve ever met. You’re so goddamned jealous that I’ve got someone who _isn’t you_ , and you just can’t handle it. You want to drag me down to your level so I’ll never have any friends and never get out and see how much better things are for me when I’m not around you!”

“Better like a box full of razor blades and cyanide capsules?” Zim growled. He was through pulling punches. Dib would have been dead a long time ago without him and that was just a fucking fact.

Dib finally looked taken aback.

“I took you in when you had nowhere else to go,” Zim said, starting to raise his voice. “I took you in because you were my _friend_ and I was _worried_ about you, and I’m still worried about you now even if you're barely acting like my friend anymore!”

Dib opened his mouth but Zim looked daggers at him and held up a finger.

“ _I’m not done!_ ” Zim yelled. “ _Yeah_ , you got me — I don’t like your boyfriend. But who _the fuck_ do you think you’re fooling?? You don’t seem happy _at all!_ You keep coming back in worse and worse moods. You’re rude to me. And yet I’m _still_ trying to be here for you!”

“Well I didn’t fucking _ask you to be!!_ ” Dib shouted. “I don’t need you to parent me! I don’t need you in my face every time I come back here! I'm through with all of this! I’m fucking moving in with Trigger so I don’t have to deal with all your overbearing bullshit anymore!”

Zim stood with his fists at his sides, trembling with rage. “Get _the fuck_ out of my house,” he hissed.

“Well, it’s a good thing I already packed the car!” Dib snapped.

“Then fucking _go!_ ” Zim yelled, voice breaking. “You want to leave so badly, _just fucking go!_ You want me to fight you on it?? I’m not gonna fucking fight you! I want your ass _out!_ ”

Dib rolled his eyes and finally pulled the door open. “Your whole response to this, by the way, has been exactly as mature as Trigger told me it would be,” he said over his shoulder.

Zim yanked off his boot and hurled it at the door, but Dib slipped through and slammed it just in time. Zim shrieked and stormed upstairs to Dib’s room, with only one boot, sock flopping on the other foot as he went. He threw himself onto Dib’s bed and buried his face in the comforter — screaming, crazed — until a sob choked him up. He pressed his face deeper into the blankets to muffle his crying.

Everything smelled like Dib and it hurt and he hated it.

Why did he have to feel like this? Why did he have to _need Dib so badly_ , especially if Dib didn’t really need him? Had their relationship always been this horrifically lopsided and Zim had just failed to realize it? Had Dib always thought Zim was stupidly jealous and lacking in self-awareness?

_You want to drag me down to your level so I’ll never have any friends and never get out and see how much better things are when I’m not around you!_

Zim felt sick as the words echoed in his head. He hadn’t ever considered there might be something wrong with the way their friendship operated. Zim had near terminal social anxiety due to his distrust in humans and Dib was traumatized from years of abuse on top of being naturally antisocial. Neither of them had ever particularly wanted or needed anyone else in their lives. Had he really missed how miserable Dib had become?

Zim’s despair was rather abruptly swallowed by white-hot rage. _It wasn’t fair!!_ If he’d just known Dib wanted _more_ and wasn’t picky about where the attention came from, he would have …!

He stopped himself. Would have done _what_ , exactly? Offered up his impeccable services as resident romantic? That was almost laughable.

 _Well!_ It wasn’t exactly like this Tigger asshole was doing wonders for Dib’s needs. A lonely Dib was a lot more pleasant to deal with than a Dib dating the first schmuck who bothered to ask.

He sat up, angrily wiping his face on his sleeve. He’d had about enough of this bullshit. They were into August now, and Dib was wasting their _entire summer_ fawning over this jackass and burning through precious days that they could be spending exploring space. Zim was just going to have to go over there and extract Dib himself.

Luckily, he had installed a tracker on Dib’s phone ages ago. 

... And followed them to Trigger’s house once.

Just once.

 _Just_ to make sure the tracker was accurate. Which it _was_. So he certainly hadn't ever followed them back there, since. That would just be overkill.

He could take the Voot and be at Trigger's house within a minute, or he could walk, get there in 30 minutes, and hopefully ratchet his anger down from “ _murder_ ” to “ _rough a bitch up_ ” by the time he made it to his destination. He dusted himself off, trotted back downstairs, fetched his boot from the entryway, and angrily speed-walked his way to Dib’s _very_ temporary home.

This insanity ended tonight.

* * *

“Whoa whoa whoa!!”

“What?” Zim asked, putting his hands on either side of Dib’s indignant face. “You’re interrupting my story, Dib. It’s rude.”

“You put a tracking app on my phone??” Dib asked with Zim’s hands still on his cheeks.

Zim rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please, Dib. I did that after you tried to cyanide yourself to death.” 

Zim leaned closer and brushed Dib’s hair to the side, gazing deep into Dib’s dark eyes, head tilted slightly. His gaze trailed down to Dib’s mouth, his face creeping ever closer to Dib’s. 

“I never wanted to lose you again. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself,” he whispered against Dib’s lips.

“Zim …” Dib tugged on the back of Zim’s shirt. “Come on … you’ve got to finish telling me what happened with Trigger and I’m _still_ not convinced this is the best possible choice we could be making …”

“Shhh … just kiss me again and I’ll finish the story,” Zim said with a smirk, putting a finger to Dib’s lips.

“Bribing me for smooches?” Dib asked with an eyebrow raise. “That’s a little low, don’t you think?”

Zim laughed softly. “I don’t have to bribe you … we both know you want it so badly that I can smell it.”

“You mean so badly _I_ can smell it?” Dib corrected, only to end up with Zim’s antennae tapping across his face.

“ _No._ I can literally smell your _want_ , Dib. I can smell it pouring out of you …”

Dib made an unimpressed gagging noise. “Ew …”

Zim grabbed his chin and gave him a no-nonsense look. “Stop being ridiculous and just kiss me again like we both know you want to!”

Dib stared at him like a deer in headlights for long enough that Zim was about to actually back down. But just as he started to turn away, Dib reached up and put a hand to his cheek.

“I do really want to kiss you again,” Dib whispered. “I’m terrified of what happens after this, but right now, I’d rather just enjoy this for a little while longer.”

Zim didn't need any further coaxing. He leaned down and kissed Dib, with a bit more coordination this time. He could hear Dib’s heartbeat picking up the pace, smell the unbridled desire spilling off him. Dib’s hands found their way under Zim’s shirt, resting on his waist and shaking. Zim reached up and tangled his fingers in Dib’s hair, claws running along his scalp. Dib wrapped him up in a comfortably warm embrace, one arm against the small of his back, the other hand above his PAK, fingers lightly stroking his neck.

When Zim finally pulled away, Dib lifted his head to steal one last chaste peck before relaxing back against the ground, trembling. He tossed an arm over his face.

“Fuck, Zim …”

“What?” Zim asked as he laid his head back down against Dib’s chest. He wanted to get up close and personal with that heartbeat.

“I … I like that way too much,” Dib said, voice choked up. “It felt … _real_. Like you actually care about me. Like you actually _want_ me.”

Zim nuzzled against his neck, purring as Dib held him close. “Because I really do.”

Dib gave him a lingering kiss on the top of his head, then slipped a hand under his shirt to rub his back. “Okay … Tell me what you did to Trigger. I can’t be mad at you now.”

“Promise?” Zim asked.

Dib snuggled his little alien, taking in how soft he was in all the right places, how good his skin felt beneath Dib’s fingers, how good he smelled, and his noisy purring. Dib wanted all of this forever. “I promise,” he whispered.

———

By the time Zim made it to the tiny ranch-style house, he was no less angry than he was when he’d left. If anything, his anger had now had a chance to stew and distill into something even more malicious. He circled the house, listening at the windows for any sign of Dib. He wasn’t particularly feeling like fucking around with doors and parents tonight. He'd already taken off his contacts so he could see better.

“... That’s not fair. I already told Zim everything you wanted me to say. Why is that not good enough??”

Zim’s antennae perked at the sound of Dib’s voice, nearly making his hat spring from his head. He scurried up the wall with his PAK legs and settled on the roof with his head hanging down to listen. 

“I would delete anyone out of my phone for you, Dib. I don’t know why you can’t do the same thing for me.”

Trigger’s tone of voice voice made Zim want to burst through the window and strangle him. The smarmy, slimy, smelly, stupid _worm ..._

“Zim was friends with me when nobody else wanted me around. I can't just cut him out completely like that.”

“Well, earlier, it sounded like you finally saw the light and wanted to cut things off.” Zim could almost hear the off-handed shrug in Trigger’s voice. “All you said to him was stuff we'd talked about—"

“That’s the problem, T!!” Dib sounded genuinely upset now. “I shouldn’t have said those things to him! I feel awful about it. I can’t apologize _now_ because I know him too well, and he’s going to be mad about it for a while, but I do want to try and make things right.”

Zim huffed. That might be true if things were _genuinely_ Dib’s fault, but he had a sneaking suspicion that _someone else_ was to blame. 

“Do you even _hear_ yourself?” Trigger said, his words coated in derision.

Zim bristled. He knew _that_ tone all too well. It was the same tone Professor Membrane always took with Dib when they argued over Dib’s passion for all things paranormal.

_“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”_

_“Imagine if you put that amount of effort into_ _**real** _ _science.”_

_“If you keep acting like this, how can you expect to amount to anything?”_

Zim had heard all that directed Dib’s way too many times, in _exactly_ the same tone of voice. No wonder Dib had talked up how familiar Trigger felt.

“I … what?” Zim could still hear the threat of tears in Dib’s voice.

“You know Zim has a temper and likes to hold things over your head. Why would you waste your time on somebody like that?”

“You’re not being very fair to him …”

Trigger sighed melodramatically. “Ugh. Look, Dibby. I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but I just plain don’t like the way he treats you. You’re too good for him. You deserve so much better. I’m asking you to get rid of his number to _protect you_.”

A long silence stretched out between and, as Zim listened intently, he could hear the telltale hiccuping breaths that meant Dib was quietly crying.

“O-okay … I’ll delete his number …”

There was shuffling as Dib presumably pulled his phone out.

“Where I can _see it_ , Dib! How can I ever trust you if you don’t —”

“ _OW!!_ ”

Zim had already vaulted off the roof the moment he heard Dib yelp. The instinct to help him was so strong that Zim had forgotten he wasn’t supposed to be there. He skittered out of the beam of light from the window and watched from a careful distance. Trigger had a hold on Dib’s arm and Dib was practically cowering.

“... What the hell is wrong with your arm?” Trigger asked suspiciously.

“Nothing!! Please let go …” Dib begged.

Trigger gave him a disgusted look before pulling down his sleeve. Zim could make out the straight red lines that marked Dib’s arm. He was all too familiar with finding them, himself.

“Cutting, Dib??” Trigger asked, incredulous. “I thought you promised not to do that anymore!! Jesus ... You _know_ how much that hurts me …”

“I didn’t promise you anything!” Dib insisted. “I said I was sorry for last time and you said we’d try to find a healthier outlet!”

Trigger dropped Dib’s arm and stood up, looking insulted. “I can’t believe you’d just lie to me like that.”

The hurt on Dib’s face made all of Zim’s insides ache.

“I’m _not_ … _please_ … you know I wouldn’t lie to you …” Dib begged.

“Fine. Then you’ve got the most selective memory of anyone I’ve ever met.” He strode across the room. “You’re starting to make me regret taking you in. I need to go take a smoke and think over whether or not this arrangement is even going to work.”

“But … I already moved out of Zim’s house and I can’t go back to my dad’s while he’s home!” Dib blubbered.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should start sorting out your priorities, then,” Trigger said snidely as he walked out the door.

Dib trembled, face falling as he tried to hold back tears.

Zim wanted more than anything to comfort him but he knew he had to sort out Trigger, first. He pulled off his boot and tugged off one of his socks, then made his way around the house just as Trigger stepped outside. Zim watched from around the corner as he struggled to light his cigarette. It was a blustery night with heat lightning on the horizon; not exactly the sort of night that was friendly to smokers. As Trigger struggled with his lighter, Zim crept up behind him and quickly gagged him with his sock, yanking his head back. They careened backwards and Zim just barely had time to catch himself with his PAK legs and flip so that he landed on top of Dib’s unwitting boyfriend instead of getting squashed. He quickly put a knee between Trigger’s shoulder blades while he tied the sock behind his head. Trigger flailed and attempted to yell, but Zim sighed long-sufferingly and tied the gag tighter.

“Are you going to make this more difficult than it needs to be?” Zim hissed in his ear, pinning his arms behind his back. “I just need to have a chat with you about Dib.”

Trigger’s body suddenly went rigid and he slowly looked over his shoulder. Zim’s hat had fallen off in the scuffle and his PAK legs were still out. Even though he was backlit and out of his disguise, he could see the recognition flicker in Trigger's face. His eyes went wide and he mumbled something that sounded vaguely like Zim’s name.

“You’re not fit to say my name, you gibbering nitwit,” Zim growled, showing all of his teeth.

With a sudden burst of panic, Trigger somehow managed to throw Zim off and attempted to make a run for it.

Zim just rolled his eyes and tripped him with an outstretched PAK leg, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt. Zim pinned him again, taking care not to rough him up badly enough that Dib might ask questions.

“Well, this has been fun,” Zim said, leering over him, “but you’re starting to be a pain in my ass and I’d rather like to get to the talking.” A PAK leg emerged from behind him, glinting in the faint light from the porch. Its tip was a rather intimidating hypodermic needle that was on a collision course with Trigger’s neck. Zim struck like a manticore about to devour its prey and Trigger’s body almost immediately turned into jello.

“Much better,” Zim said, hauling him up and dragging him towards the woods that ringed the property. “That’s a Thyruvian paralytic. Have you ever met a Thyruvian?" he yammered as they reached the tree line. Now that they were clear of the house, he was no longer worried about being heard over the gusts of wind that buffeted the house. "Horrible creatures … Imagine one of your earth jellyfish, except lighter than air and covered in rows of teeth like knives.”

Zim dragged him a short ways through the undergrowth, then hauled him up and propped him against a tree, holding him up with a PAK leg under either arm.

“Now I’m sure you’re asking, ‘Why is Zim telling me all this? Why should I care?’” Zim said, a devious smile pulling at his lips.

He’d missed menacing people. Now, more than ever, it made him feel alive. He tipped Trigger’s chin up with a finger, forcing him to meet his gaze. And, partially, to pull attention away from the fact that Zim’s legs were currently dangling a solid two and a half feet off the ground.

“You should care because, as hideous as Thyruvians are, no one's invented the numbers required to tell you just _how many times worse_ than them _you_ are.” Zim’s eyes narrowed and it took everything he had to restrain the glee he felt upon seeing the terror in Trigger’s eyes. “Let’s get down to the point, Shooter. You hurt someone who belongs to _me_. I’ve been working _so hard_ to keep him together and you had to go and unravel him. He’s miserable and you’re trying to keep him that way.” Zim laughed harshly. “Did you know, puny earth monkey, that I’ve killed thousands? Maybe even more than thousands,” he added flippantly. “I’ve lost count. The point is, I’ve killed before, over far less, and they were people who had far more redeeming qualities than _you_.”

Zim paused for dramatic effect. Fuck, he had really missed doing things for dramatic effect.

“But killing people outright has gotten boring. Look at you!” He let Trigger slide down the tree slightly before hauling him back up. “You’re no fun! This would be an embarrassment, both for me and for you." He tilted his head, looking his captive up and down. "No, I’ve found it’s a lot more fun to release my prey back into the wild and leave them wondering …” He put his face mere inches from the horrified human’s. “ _When_ … and _where_ … and _how_ will Zim strike? Doesn’t that sound like more fun?”

He helpfully nodded Trigger’s head for him. 

“Good, I’m glad we agree!” Zim said with unhinged glee. “So, here’s how it’s going to play out tonight. I can’t rescue Dib because he’s got too much pride; he’d resent me forever if I just barged in and told him we're going home. Instead, I'm going to have to ask you to do me a little favor; you’re going to need to break up with him and send him back to me. Easy, right?”

Zim stepped back and let Trigger flop to the ground.

“So easy, even a brain-dead, certified moron like _yourself_ can’t possibly fuck it up!” He undid the knot on his sock and freed Trigger from the makeshift gag. “Anyway, that paralytic should wear off in the next five minutes or so and I don’t want to be around in case you start screaming your fool fucking head off.” Zim pulled his foot out of his boot and pulled his sock back on before turning back to give his captive a scathing look. “Though, if you know what’s good for you, you _won’t_. As a matter of fact, you won’t be telling Dib you ever saw me. Otherwise, you’re going to _wish_ I had killed you right now.” He vaulted up into the trees, poking his head down only momentarily to whisper a bone-chilling “ _Toodles!"_ before disappearing into the night.

* * *

Zim had been genuinely concerned that Dib might beat him home. But two hours on, Dib still hadn’t come back and Zim was starting to consider how long he should wait before making good on his plan to just take Trigger out of the picture permanently. He pulled out his phone to check on Dib’s location. There was a non-zero chance that Trigger might have tried to call Zim's bluff, and that was going to end horribly for everyone involved. When Zim pulled up the map, however, he briefly did a double take.

Apparently, Dib was sitting just outside.

Zim jumped off the couch and stormed into the kitchen to angrily prod the microwave. “Hey. You. Sleepy-ass electronic bastard,” he hissed under his breath.

“That’s not very nice. And why are we whispering?” the Computer asked quietly from what sounded like the interior of the microwave.

“Because _someone_ neglected to tell me that Dib has been sitting outside the base for Irk knows how long!” Zim said with an accusatory stare he wasn’t quite sure the Computer could actually see,

“Dib? He’s been out there for the past 37 minutes and 21 seconds … 22 … 23 …”

“And you conveniently failed to tell me this _why_???” Zim demanded. “You have _so few jobs!!_ Protecting the base is the top of a _very limited_ stack of things!”

“Accessing footage from May, three years ago …”

Zim buried his face in his hands, aggravated, as his voice was played back at him.

_“Computer!!! Stop alerting me every time Dib moves! He lives here now, you sorry excuse for sentience!”_

“Earlier today he said he was leaving for good, and now he’s been sitting on the doorstep for over half an hour!” Zim said through gritted teeth. “Where were you on _that one?_ ”

“Playing chess with GIR,” the Computer said, as if it were obvious.

“Playing chess …” Zim repeated.

“Yes.”

“With GIR?” Zim finished, seething.

“Yes. He’s waiting on me right now. I should get back to him.”

The microwave dinged and the door sprung open, popping Zim in the face.

“ _Ow!!_ Fuck you!” Zim shouted, slamming the door shut. “I’m going to let GIR take a bath while he microwaves taquitos again, you reject-bin, Made-in-Vort, absolutely useless—!”

“Zim?”

Dib’s voice made him wheel around, eyes wide. Dib hadn’t even opened the door all the way but Zim could immediately tell that he’d likely been sobbing on the front porch for the past half hour. His eyes looked red and his voice had the thick, cottony quality that could only come from giving in to a long crying jag.

“I know you don’t want to see me right now … b-but something happened … and n-now I don’t have anywhere to go, and …” He turned and slid down the doorframe. 

Zim pulled a container of ice cream out of the freezer and made his way over to the door.

“I’m … sorry …” Dib whispered from the darkness. “If I had anywhere else to go, I wouldn’t be asking you to forgive me just hours after I stormed out … it’s not fair … but Trigger … I don’t even know what happened! He … he fucking dumped me out of nowhere!”

Zim opened the door and dropped the container in Dib’s lap, startling him. Dib looked from the ice cream to Zim and back again, confused.

“Ice cream. 80's romance movies. You, crying all over me,” Zim said with a sad smile, offering Dib his hand. "My offer still stands."

“You’re not mad?” Dib asked, sniffling.

Zim hauled him up and mulled things over momentarily. He was still a _little_ miffed that Dib had stormed out so dramatically and accused Zim of being the source of all of his problems. But after being privvy to only a few moments of the sort of treatment Dib had been receiving, he wasn’t so sure he could hold Dib fully accountable.

“Tell me why you said all those things,” he said quietly.

“I guess I just _really_ wanted this to work out … and when shit started hitting the fan, I wanted to blame anyone but myself,” Dib warbled, face pressed into his hands. “That wasn’t fair and I’m sorry.”

Zim gave him an odd look. “Why would you blame _yourself_?”

“Who the fuck else would I blame?” Dib asked, wiping tears from his eyes. “I drove him crazy until he couldn’t take it anymore.”

Zim was at a loss for words. He’d watched Trigger emotionally abuse, mentally manipulate, and physically intimidate Dib, and that was all in the course of mere minutes! What sort of relationship did Dib _think_ he had been in for all this time?

But as he looked up at Dib to call him on this distortion of reality, his words died in his throat. Dib looked so utterly destroyed that Zim was moderately sure forcing him to see the light would be a useless endeavor.

“Well, you aren’t going to drive me crazy,” he said, closing the door and steering Dib towards the couch before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a spoon. “I’ve been going a little nuts traveling on my own these past few weeks. Having someone to keep me company again can only be good for me.”

Dib looked around. “Wait. Where’s GIR?”

Zim handed him the spoon and flopped on the couch. “Playing chess,” he grumbled.

Dib raised an eyebrow. “Playing chess?”

“Yes. But that’s not a good story,” Zim assured him, turning on the TV. “You know what is a good story?”

“ _The Princess Bride_?” Dib guessed, his mouth full of cookie dough ice cream.

“Good answer — I guess I’ll have to let you stay,” Zim said with a smile.

* * *

Dib had been stroking the ends of Zim’s antennae, but as Zim wrapped up the retelling of his side of things, Dib's hands had been unnervingly still.

“So, uh, you know the rest,” Zim said nervously. “We moved all your stuff back in, we’ve been inseparable ever since, and no one ever saw Trigger again _THE END_!!”

“Oh my god, Zim!” Dib groaned, putting his face in his hands. He looked out at Zim through his fingers. “Did you kill him??”

“My dearest Dib … Zim’s killing days are over,” he replied flippantly.

“Oh my god ...”

_“What??”_

“That answer doesn’t exactly inspire confidence!” Dib said hysterically, flopping back and covering his face.

Zim nudged his arm out of the way. “I’m joking, Dib. The worst I do is sneak into his house, swap the sugar out with salt, and move all the blue objects two inches to the left. Smeet stuff.”

“Super — so you’re gaslighting him.”

“I … ugh!! Look here, Dib. He gaslighted you first!” Zim shouted, suddenly angry. “How can you not see that?? I watched him grab you and shout at you and twist your emotions around his greasy little finger! It was clear as an Earth sky on an autumn day that he was abusing you! How can you still think that’s up for debate??”

“Because I was told, over and over and over again, that every bad thing was my fault!” Dib yelled back, rolling Zim off of him and sitting up. He turned away and buried his face in his arms. “Whenever he shouted at me, or froze me out, or snuck a drink, it was always because _my_ behavior _made him do it_. Proximity to my craziness made him crazy.”

Zim reached for his shoulder. “You’re not crazy —”

“I’m a mess of mental illnesses, Zim!” Dib yelled, his voice strangled by a sob. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m certifiable. I’ve been shipped off to the psych ward so many times. If I wasn’t crazy the first time I went in there, I sure the hell was by the eighth time I came out!”

Zim sat still, unsure of what he was supposed to do. The situation had very rapidly gotten away from him.

“I’ve made up my mind … we can’t fucking do this,” Dib cried, shoulders shaking. “I can’t risk the chance that this happens all over again! That being around me makes you—”

“Makes me _what,_ Dib?” Zim asked, completely aghast. “Makes me want to _hurt you_?? I can’t even begin to tell you how far off-base you are.” He sat behind Dib, wrapping his arms around Dib’s middle and holding him tight. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that he lied?” he asked, mumbling into Dib's shoulder.

“I don’t wanna shift blame …” Dib mumbled, hiccuping.

“You’re already shifting blame,” Zim countered. “On to yourself, where I can fucking assure you it _doesn’t belong_.”

“Who made you so smart about people all of a sudden?” Dib grouched.

“Maybe I read a psychology textbook or two after you nearly missed the start of this school year because you couldn’t fucking get out of bed!” Zim said desperately. “Maybe I watched you struggling to eat even one meal a day and wanted to do anything I could to help you!”

“I don’t need an armchair shrink, Zim.”

“Maybe you need a _real one_ , then!” Zim said, face pressed against Dib’s back, holding on to him for dear life. “But I know what I saw, and you were a victim of Narcissus!”

“Oh, the Greek god, himself?” Dib asked, deadpan.

“Gah! You know what I mean!!" Zim exclaimed, frustrated. "Trigger swooped in and charmed the pants off you and it’s not your fault for falling for it! He found all of your insecurities and he drove a wedge into them until you started to break. He drove you crazy and then used it to further gaslight you.”

Dib finally re-emerged and Zim grabbed his hand, holding it tight and staring up at him plaintively.

“I don’t want you for my own edification, Dib. I don’t want you as an emotional punching bag. I don’t want to cut you off from other people. I know we used to get into awful fights when we were younger but I never want to lay a hand on you ever again,” Zim said, pressing Dib’s hand to his cheek. “Trigger didn’t love you. He used you, and he was going to continue to use you until he bled you dry. And then he would have dropped you no matter what you did. I couldn’t let you go through that … Because I _do_ love you.”

“But I’m broken,” Dib said mournfully.

“So what?” Zim said, practically throwing himself at his aggravatingly stubborn human and holding him tight.

Dib relaxed slightly and hugged Zim back, resting his cheek against Zim's head.

“You act like I’ve somehow got it all together by comparison!” Zim grumbled into Dib's shirt. “Not like I _enjoy_ bringing this up, but need I remind you that I’m the one who wet the bed because they had a nightmare a couple nights back?”

“I told you it could have just as easily been—”

“Fucking hell, Dib! Quit trying to spare me embarrassment!” Zim shouted, muffled. “I’m going through some things and I’m falling apart! Maybe you should stop worrying so much that you’re going to drive me insane and start worrying more about the realities of taking care of me while I try to get it the fuck together! Because at the rate things are going, I'm not getting better any time soon!”

Zim breathed angrily into Dib’s shirt, feeling too vulnerable to show his face. He hated having to acknowledge all the ways in which his mind and body seemed to be failing him, but his concerns were rooted in reality, whereas Dib’s were rooted merely in paranoia.

“... I’m not worried about that,” Dib mumbled.

That finally got Zim to pop his head back up, complete with a bewildered expression. “Eh?”

“Oh. Um … Was that too quiet? I thought we were done shouting.”

“No, I _heard you just fine_ ,” Zim said, waving him off. “What do you _mean_ you aren’t worried about it??”

Dib shrugged and looked away. “Dunno. It’s just not that hard to take care of you. I mean, it’s more work than I thought it might be? But it all feels worth it because—”

“Because you love me,” Zim finished for him.

“That seems a little strong, this early on,” Dib said nervously.

“Because you like me and care about me a whole awful lot, okay?” Zim said with a flustered sigh.

Dib laid back down and pulled Zim down with him. Zim wasn’t about to argue and snuggled up in Dib’s arms, grateful for the physical comfort. The fireflies were still going at it, oblivious to their squabble and its subsequent resolution.

"I mean ... I do. You're not wrong," Dib admitted.

“Let’s just be broken together,” Zim whispered. “I know how to keep you stable when you’re feeling like jumping off the deep end. You’re learning how to talk me down from a flashback. We both care about each other and want to be close. Isn’t that enough??”

“What if it gets to be too much?” Dib asked sadly.

“ _Pfft_ … we’re both always too much,” Zim said dismissively. He looked up and caught Dib giving him a doubtful look. “We’ll get through it,” he said, nuzzling against him. “We’ll be okay.”

"You can't know that ..."

"Yes, I _can_ ," Zim said, sounding miffed. "Look, what I'm offering you? It's _forever_. There is no 'too much'. If things get rough? Tough shit — we're working it out because I am _not_ doing this over with someone else."

"Is this a cultural thing or a _you_ thing?" Dib asked nervously.

"It's ... a little of both?" Zim offered. "It's complicated ..."

"And I'm interested." Dib disentangled himself from Zim and laid back down, head propped up on one arm. He motioned Zim to lay down next to him.

Zim signed and snuggled up to be the little spoon. "Alright. Before PAKs and genetic engineering, Irkens pair bonded with their mate, and that would be the only mate they'd ever have. If your mate died ... well, you either committed ritual suicide, or you had the body taxidermied."

"Uh ... how do you know this?" Dib asked skeptically.

"Because it's the part of our history we're supposed to be ashamed of," Zim said gravely. "It's why they tried over and over and over again to zap the love out of me. We aren't supposed to _love_ , and especially not to _that_ extreme." He snuggled back against Dib. "Irkens still sort of pair bond, but it looks a lot different now than it did then. It's not usually sexual, but it can be. Bonded pairs are usually given the same encoding because they work so well in unison. They also tend to be the same height. Bonding outside of your height bracket is seen as deviant."

Dib furrowed his brow. "Wait ... you've got two Tallest right now. Does that mean ...?"

Zim nodded. "Red and Purple are _irritatingly gay_ for each other."

"Yeah, that scans."

"Anyway ... I'm small, so my options were extremely limited," Zim said softly. "And none of the others were capable of love. I figured I might be, ironically, incapable of bonding." He slipped his fingers into Dib's hand. "But then, that day I found you at the park? Something just clicked and I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since."

"That was a _weird_ day," Dib mumbled.

Zim looked up, and all of the sky was reflected in his eyes. "I know I'm jealous, and that isn't a good thing. But even if you don't take me as your mate ... I won't be able to stop being there for you and caring for you. It's ingrained in me, now. I'm responsible for your wellbeing."

Dib reached down and stroked his cheek. "Okay."

"Okay ... _what?_ " Zim asked cautiously.

"Okay, I'll be your mate," Dib said softly. "I like you a whole awful lot. Taking care of you makes me feel weirdly good. And there's nobody I feel closer to than you. Plus ... I have to admit, I feel kinda possessive over you, too, at this point."

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. Zim straddled him and flopped back onto his stomach.

“Do you really still fuck with Trigger?” Dib asked, apropos of nothing.

“About once a month. Just to keep him on his toes and remind him that I'm watching,” Zim replied with a grin.

Dib hugged him close. "You know ... I think I can live with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obvious dickhead OC's name is obvious. Sorry ^^;;;;


	6. The Other L Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — This chapter includes sexually explicit scenes that are not suitable for probably anyone, but definitely not anyone under 18 — 
> 
> Zim and Dib nip out for froyo. Zim wants to make the whole "mate" thing official.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... You can always tell what I'm craving when I write. I'm an open book.

_I found you like a culinary gem  
In a stucco-pink strip mall,  
I found you as the curtain's coming  
Down on a melancholy romcom_

\- [Faded Paper Figures, _Lost Stars_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oprfr8XR_D8)

* * *

The next few days passed with so few incidents that Zim thought he might genuinely be getting better. The nightmares had gotten noticeably less intense, and the times he woke up in a panic, he always knew exactly where he was. The only thing that had changed was that Dib was now officially his mate, and he had to assume that the two things were directly correlated.

He had been feeling so much better that he decided to accompany Dib to the last three days of school, though his one condition was that Dib stay close and keep in physical contact as much as possible. They’d been holding hands beneath their desks for much of the day, but as the last few minutes of their last ever high school class ticked by, they’d become much more overt. Their Spanish teacher had put on a movie and, given that the room was dark and they were sitting in the back, Dib had reclined until his head rested on Zim’s desk. His eyes were closed as Zim played with his hair, lost in thoughts of how well the week had been going and how relieved he was to finally be open about his feelings for Zim.

A sudden pressure against his lips made his eyes fly open, and he found himself gazing into Zim’s bright violet irises. He was about to kiss back, when the lights suddenly came back up.

“The bell’s not for another five minutes, but I think it’s time for summer to officially start."

Was it too late for this one to be Zim's favorite teacher? Because she was officially Zim's favorite teacher. Maybe he could leave a plate of cookies on her driveway or something equally sappy.

He could hash out the details later. Right now, his main concern was to officially leave the public education system behind, after nearly a decade of willingly subjecting himself to its torment.

He leaped out of his seat with Dib in tow, yanking him straight out of his desk and towards the door. Dib barely had time to grab his bag and shout a hasty, “Happy summer!” before Zim dragged him out the door and down the hall. They were midway down the stairwell before Dib was able to dig his heels in.

“Jesus, Zim!! What are you in such a hurry for??” he demanded, finally coming to a halt on the landing. "Summer's not going anywhere _that_ fast."

Zim grabbed his other hand and looked plaintively up into his eyes. “Trigger _stole_ our whole summer together last year,” he said, eyes intense. “I don’t want to waste another _minute_ of this one. Even if we just go home and watch movies again and cuddle.”

“Aw, someone’s feeling needy, huh?” Dib said with a smile.

Zim looked away, blushing. “I’m allowed to …” he mumbled.

Dib leaned down and kissed his cheek. “All I want to do is spend the evening cuddling with you.”

Since Monday night, all pretense of their closeness being down to pure platonic friendliness had finally been dropped. Snuggling up in bed for the night had an altogether different quality about it now. Instead of a restrained, wistful energy, they could both shower each other with unrestrained love. It was strange that his relationship with Zim — someone with whom he'd had actual fistfights that had resulted in severe injuries on both sides — felt altogether healthier than his previous relationship. Even if he was still a little worried that it was predicated entirely on how absolutely worthless they were at functioning without each other.

“You know, I really think I’m getting better,” Zim said brightly as they made their way home. “I’ve been able to go out without feeling as jumpy, I haven’t had a daytime flashback in a while, and the nighttime ones are getting less severe. Plus, that one night you woke up screaming, it didn’t put me on the defensive.”

Dib was still a bit embarrassed over that. It seemed that rehashing his summer from hell had caused his subconscious to process some lingering trauma, and he’d woken up from a horrible nightmare about being broken up with. Normally he wouldn't give half a shit about his abuser, but the nightmare had been so intense, he woke up confused about where and when he was, and doubly confused about why Zim was in bed with him. Luckily, his shouting only moderately alarmed Zim, without sending him into a complete panic. Zim even had the presence of mind to walk Dib through the same grounding exercises Dib had been using on him for the past week. 

Having the roles reverse was, in a way, a bit of a breath of fresh air. Dib almost hated to admit to himself how good it had felt to have Zim hold him and stroke his hair while whispering gentle reassurance. He might have been a little starved for emotional intimacy, on top of touch. 

“You’re doing really well,” Dib said cautiously, “and I don’t want to invalidate all the progress you’ve made …”

Zim rolled his eyes and arced his head over to his other shoulder to give Dib a wry look. “But?” he asked dryly.

“But I think we still need to be realistic," Dib admitted. "Healing from severe trauma in the course of a week would be kind of an impressive endeavor.”

Zim puffed up. “Well, I’m kind of an impressive Irken,” he replied defensively.

Dib pulled him close as they walked in lockstep. “I know you are,” he said gently. “And you really _have_ made some amazing progress. I don’t want to understate how proud I am of you for that. It’s just that I’m still waking up every time you so much as twitch so that I can steer you from the brink of a flashback. And …” He looked down at his mate and sighed. “Look, I _really_ hope this isn’t the case, but you saw what happened to me a few nights back. Getting a reprieve and then processing some new part of your trauma is super common.”

Zim scoffed. “You’re comparing human psychology to Zim psychology. Apples and oranges,” he said dismissively.

Dib put a hand around Zim’s waist as they turned the corner to his cul-de-sac. “And your trauma is the sort of thing we’d usually see in prisoners of war, _at minimum_.” He glanced down, heart aching as Zim scowled up at him. “I want to be optimistic. _Really_. I just don’t want you to be upset if you get a resurgence in symptoms. I was really upset when every gain I made against my PTSD seemed to be followed by backsliding and I kept feeling like that meant I was doing something wrong.”

They stopped outside of the front door, and Dib wrapped Zim up in a tight hug. “I'm in this for the long haul, no matter what you're going through and no matter what taking care of you entails. I genuinely want to help you and be here for you.”

Zim looked up ad Dib with huge puppy eyes. “Even if taking care of me means ordering half a dozen pizzas for dinner?”

Dib stifled a laugh. “Yeah, even then.”

When dinner rolled around, they decided to give in to bad habits and eat in bed. Mostly because GIR was already monopolizing the TV while talking loudly on the phone to … _someone_. At this point, Zim didn’t bother asking and he didn’t waste valuable brain space wondering what, exactly, it was that GIR got up to at any given point during the day. At any rate, it gave the couple an excuse to get up in each other’s personal space.

Dib would have assumed that being fat and happy would slow Zim down some, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all. The moment his mouth was no longer occupied with the important task of demolishing yet another full pizza on his own, he was pressed against Dib, kissing up his arm.

“This is mine,” Zim mumbled between kisses. “And this shoulder … and your neck … and —”

Dib rolled on his back, wrapping his arms around Zim and pulling him on top of himself. “All of this is mine,” he said with a grin, running his hands down Zim's sides. It suddenly struck him that Zim had gotten rather round in places. “You know, you’ve definitely gained some padding since you first got here, but you’re still pretty light."

Zim looked taken aback. “Is that a nice way of calling me fat??” he demanded.

“It’s a neutral way of saying that I love how soft you are,” Dib said, running his hands down Zim’s thighs. He wasn't sure how he'd missed the fact that Zim's figure was trending towards pear-shaped. Maybe, despite his penchant for leggings, all those big shirts and hoodies down to his knees had hidden his tummy rolls and chubby thighs. His absolutely irresistible chubby thighs ...

Dib finally tore his gaze away and looked up. “Also, you really need to take those silly contact lenses off before I can be convinced to make out with you.”

Zim stared down at him skeptically, still a little miffed about Dib’s weight comment.

“Or, I could just take them off myself,” Dib said, voice low as he reached up.

Zim sat still, wondering if he would really do it. Dib certainly had rather strange ideas about acceptable personal boundaries and flirting but this seemed like a bit much, even for him. But Dib’s hands crept ever closer, until they were right up in his face, popping his contact lenses off. A shocked expression crossed his face as his vision re-focused on Dib, grinning like an idiot and delicately holding Zim's slightly pink and gooey contacts. Zim took a moment to process the scene in front of him, then quickly took the contacts from Dib and stowed them in his PAK.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” he mumbled as Dib took a handful of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. "You're not grossed out by that?"

"Have we ever found a thing I'm grossed out by?"

"True," Zim conceded. "You're kinda nasty ..."

“That, and I’m running out of ways that I haven’t already been intimately close with you,” Dib replied.

“Oh, really?” Zim said suggestively. "Because I can think of a pretty big one ..."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and the tingling between his legs was growing too strong to ignore anymore. He pressed his hips downwards, grinding as he splayed his fingers out in Dib’s hair. 

Dib let out a soft “Ah!” and lifted his hips up slightly as Zim chirped in response. At that, Dib went still for a moment before opening his eyes and shooting Zim a somewhat accusatory look. 

“What’s that look for?” Zim asked, sitting back.

“You told me that was a noise you made when you were comfortable,” Dib said suspiciously.

Zim shrugged and looked away. “Yeah. So?”

“That’s a turned-on noise, isn’t it?”

Zim just huffed, hunching his shoulders. "Being turned on is a sign that I'm comfortable with you ... I didn't _lie_ ..." he muttered.

Dib put a hand over his face. “Jesus, Zim …” he muttered, right before something clicked in his brain. “Okay. Wait. Why didn’t it happen any time after the first night we were cuddling, or all the times we've kissed?” He looked suddenly concerned. “Am I a crappy kisser?? You have to tell me these things or it's never going to get better!”

Zim sighed and laid back down on top of him, snuggling just under his chin. “No. That’s definitely not it,” he assured him. 

“Then why did you stop?”

Zim shifted nervously. “After that first night, I started … taking care of myself. So it took more than just being touched by you for my body to go nuts.”

“Huh? When did you find time for _that_?” Dib asked, bewildered. _He_ certainly hadn't had a moment alone with himself for long enough to take care of those physical needs. “I didn’t even notice you were gone …”

“I was thinking about _you_ , so it’s not like it took me a long time to get off,” Zim admitted, cheeks burning as Dib shifted against him and another chirp bubbled up, despite his attempts to stop it. “Sorry … all I can think of, now, is how badly I want to mate with you …”

Zim felt Dib stiffen — and not in the good way — and abruptly felt like he’d misstepped.

“I don’t know if it’s a great idea. I’ve never done anything like that,” Dib said, his throat suddenly dry. “And before you ask, the most Trigger and I ever did was kiss. Not to mention, I’m not even sure you and I have compatible anatomy …”

“We could find out,” Zim replied with a grin, starting to reach inside Dib’s pants.

Dib panicked and swatted his hand away.

Zim looked taken aback and a little emotionally wounded. “I wasn’t going to _hurt you_ , Dib …”

Dib stared at Zim, wide-eyed, before suddenly pushing him off.

“Ack! _Dib_!! What are you doing??” Zim squawked as he slid off Dib and onto the bed. “Was it something I said?? What the hell!”

Dib sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, shoulders hunched. “Sorry. Changed my mind. Can we table the sex?” His voice came out mumbly and monotone, the words rushed.

Zim moved to sit closer and reached out to touch his hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, thoroughly confused and very concerned about his human. He could hear Dib's heart hammering from where he sat.

“Yeah … I’m just … Look, I’m sorry. I changed my mind. I just can’t do this right now,” Dib said, the words tumbling from his mouth.

“We don’t have to do anything … sorry,” Zim said softly, feeling stupid as Dib pulled back. 

Dib sat silently, radiating misery for reasons Zim didn't quite understand. Zim shifted uncomfortably, and abruptly realized he had a problem of his own on his hands. His cock was still bulging against the crotch of his leggings, thick and tingling and begging for release. He wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on anything else until he took care of himself.

He turned and slid off the bed, mumbling a quick, “I’ll be back,” before sprinting across the room and disappearing into the bathroom. He was inside himself before he could even shut the door.

He felt slightly guilty for dashing out on Dib, and even more for how quickly his mind switched gears from "concerned mate" to "horny degenerate wanking off in the bathroom 20 feet away". It didn’t take long for his brain to find a suitable fantasy; one where Dib was red-faced and bashful as Zim slid up inside him, making him softly whimper out Zim’s name and shower him with praise about how good he was with his dick. That image had Zim leaned back against the wall, hand in his pants, rubbing the sensitive base of his tentacle with the heel of his palm. All of his fantasy Dibs enjoyed grinding their cocks against the base of his, and he desperately hoped that that kind of behavior wasn’t just an Irken thing.

He wanted Dib to enjoy every last bit of him and be deafeningly vocal about it, too. The thought of Dib tipping his hips up, grabbing Zim around the middle, and desperately grinding his erect cock against him …

Zim groped blindly above him for the hand towel, grabbed it, and frantically stuffed it between his legs. The force of the orgasm made him double over, and before he could stop himself, he cried out Dib’s name. He slapped a hand over his mouth as the overspill from his cock quickly soaked the towel. He must have been more aroused than he’d realized. At least nothing seemed to have leaked through. He wasn’t sure he would be able to face Dib if he had to saunter back out into the bedroom with a massive wet spot on his leggings. As it was, he _really_ hoped that Dib wouldn’t ask why the towel was soaked and smelled like strawberry jam. He made a mental note to do an inconspicuous load of laundry as soon as possible.

Back in bed, Dib was feeling miserable, and hearing Zim moan his name from the bathroom somehow only made him feel worse. He knew exactly what was going on, and that it was entirely his fault.

Zim might be the only person for whom he had ever felt genuine attraction. Even his relationship with Trigger had mostly relied on the fact that Dib just appreciated the attention. Or, at least, the form the attention had taken at first. Near the end, when Trigger had tried to push things further, Dib had found himself shutting down at the suggestion of actually being intimate with him. What he’d had in his head didn’t quite cash out in reality and he was too uncomfortable to let it go any further. 

The feeling he had gotten when Zim tried to touch him wasn’t quite as severe, however. He _wanted_ a passionate love-making session, but he was far too anxious over too many things. He’d hate to let Zim down if it turned out that their respective bits were incompatible or Dib’s human junk failed to do anything for an alien with undoubtedly exotic taste. He wasn’t ready to face down the facts that this may have been a massive mistake.

The bathroom door squeaked open and Zim finally shuffled back into the room, looking sheepish.

“I want to get out of the house for a little bit,” Dib said, before Zim had a chance to open his mouth and say anything that would make him die of embarrassment on the spot. “I was thinking maybe that place with the froyo and bubble tea?”

“We _just_ ate,” Zim said, perking an antenna quizzically.

“Since when do two pizzas fill you up?”

“Let me rephrase … _you_ just ate.”

“Yeah, and I could maybe go for desert,” Dib replied with a shrug. Whether or not he could actually eat what was ostensibly a whole other meal was up for debate, but he really wanted to get out of the base and into a public space where he wouldn’t be expected to have a conversation about how weird he’d just gotten when propositioned with sex. He didn't quite have the words yet to explain exactly what was going on inside his head, much less a plan for how to make things better. He didn't even have the words to tell Zim how confused he felt. Avoiding the whole topic entirely seemed like the best course of action.

“Alright,” Zim said, still looking a little like he thought he was missing something.

"Great." 

Dib practically vaulted off the bed and towards the door, leaving Zim to catch up at his own pace.

As they made their way down to the car, Dib could feel Zim watching him cautiously, so he made a point to get in, start up his vehicle as quickly as possible, and turn the music up just enough to discourage conversation. Zim looked like he wanted to have a talk about what had just happened between them, but even he could take a hint. 

He rolled down the window and kicked his feet up onto the side view mirror. He wasn’t about to make it easy for Dib to just ignore him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Dib looked over, opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and turn back towards the road. Apparently, seeing what was going on along the passenger side of the car was optional.

Zim tried to think back to the last time things had been this tense and quiet between them. Probably the time they’d gone to a concert two years ago, and he had gotten them both bounced from the venue for fighting. In his defense, it was the _fifth_ guy who had been creeping on Dib that night and he’d had enough of it. Did he _have_ to toss the bastard straight through a t-shirt booth? Technically, no. But that was _one asshole_ who wouldn’t be harassing anybody else any time soon. Or, possibly ever again. Zim didn't really stick around long enough to find out.

Dib, however, had been an ungrateful little shit about the whole thing and refused to say a word to Zim for the entire hour-long ride home. It later came to light that one of the bands they missed had turned out to be frontlined by an actual predator, so he maintained that he did both of them a favor that day, even if Dib had stubbornly insisted on being sore about it.

Their current situation was somehow worse than that car ride, however. At least during the concert debacle, Zim knew _exactly_ why Dib was upset at him. Currently, he wasn’t sure what was going on between them at all or why Dib was doing his damnedest to avoid having a conversation about it. At least when they were yelling at each other, things were easier. Hell, even back when they were trying to beat the absolute _shit_ out of each other, things were easier. Without _some_ sort of feedback, Zim was adrift in a sea of confusion.

He snapped back to reality as the engine finally cut and the music died away. Dib got out of the car without a word and Zim scurried to get out and catch up with him. They’d parked a little ways down the street due to the amount of people clogging the town center on the first night of summer vacation and Zim didn’t want to lose Dib in the crowd. He sprinted up beside Dib and snatched his hand, looking a little miffed.

“I don’t care what you’re upset with me about, you _know_ I have absolutely no sense of direction and if you lose me, it might be for good,” he grouched.

“Your phone has GPS. You’d be fine,” Dib said flippantly, his hand limp in Zim’s own.

Zim bristled, trying to think of something cutting to say back and coming up empty-handed. Not like he really _wanted_ to fight at this point. The preferable option would be to make Dib actually talk things out with him. He spotted an alleyway up ahead and veered off down it, dragging Dib along behind him.

“Where the fuck are you going??” Dib exclaimed as his shoulder came close to popping out. It was easy to forget how strong Zim was, especially given that he was solidly under five feet tall.

“We’re gonna have a chat,” Zim replied simply.

“You don’t need to dislocate my arm to do that!” Dib snapped, stumbling along behind the buildings.

Zim finally came to a halt and spun around to look at him. “Oh yeah? Could have fooled me, since you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes doing everything you can to avoid talking to me about why you got all weird when I suggested we try mating!”

Dib immediately blushed straight down to his shoulders. “Quit shouting,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He turned to leave but Zim grabbed his wrist.

The more he was backed into a corner, loudly confronted, and forced out of his comfort zone, the closer he was getting to absolutely exploding. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a public screaming match with Zim, but that seemed to be _exactly_ what Zim was angling for.

“What is it with you and touching me today??” Dib demanded, shaking him loose.

“I don’t need your permission to touch you,” Zim countered, jabbing a finger at his ribs.

Dib slapped his hand away. “Would you knock it off?? You can be such an absolute child, I swear to god!”

Zim poked him in the shoulder and then hopped backwards to avoid getting smacked. Dib had aimed for his face that time. “Just tell me what your problem is! It doesn’t have to be this hard, Dib!” Zim shouted.

“You’re the one making this hard!” Dib fired back, trying and failing to dodge as Zim poked him in the cheek. “Quit it!”

“Make me.” _Poke._

“Would it _kill you_ to just not be a dick??”

“Would it kill you to learn to _communicate_?” _Poke._

“You’re going to make me die of embarrassment, so _yes!_ ”

“Drama king.” _Poke._

“Asshole!”

“Stinkbrain!”

“Cunt!” Dib shrieked back. "Fucking obnoxious dick!"

“Are you just going to keep naming body parts or can we have an _actual_ conversation??” Zim demanded.

Dib looked away, fuming. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re _confusing_!” Zim insisted plaintively. “I just wanted to be close with you, and you got all weird about it!”

“Sure, that’s what you _think you want_ , up until you realize how much of a disappointment I am.” Dib huffed.

Zim gave him an odd look. “What are you talking about??”

Dib slouched back against the brick wall, staring moodily up at the sky. The last thing he wanted to do was have this conversation with Zim in a back alley in the center of town, where anyone could overhear them. He was beginning to regret not just attempting to open up in the safety of their bedroom. He should have known that being in public wouldn’t stop Zim from demanding an explanation. 

“I’m not well-endowed, okay??” he finally muttered. “I’m sure you’ve got grand expectations and something mind-blowing between your legs, and the second we actually try to have sex, you’re going to realize you made a mistake when you asked me to be your mate.”

“Dib …” Zim went to reach for Dib’s hand, but stopped himself. Instead, he positioned himself against the wall, a safe distance away. It seemed like a poor choice to pressure dib further with touch. “First of all, I’ve seen your collection of fantasy dicks, and I’m both impressed by human creativity and amused by how wildly off-base you are as a species when it comes to dick evolution.”

Dib didn’t have a good reply to that. He thought he'd hidden all his dildos rather well.

“Second, I don’t know _where_ you get the idea that our relationship is predicated on our first time clearing some sort of ... _arbitrary bar_ that nobody but _you_ cares about.” He looked up, but Dib was still facing away from him. “It could be a _giant disaster_ and I still won’t regret it. All I want out of it is a chance to be close to you.”

Dib bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words to express the swirling inner turmoil that currently made up the inside of his brain. “What if I can’t overcome my dysphoria?” he asked quietly. “What if this is something I just can’t do for you? It happened when I was with Trigger and as much as I _actually_ want to do it with you, it felt like I was drowning in anxiety the minute it looked like it might actually happen.”

Zim cautiously reached down and took Dib’s hand in his. “If that’s really going to be an issue, then we’ll find other ways to be close. As much as I'm sure I'd enjoy mating with you, it’s not a requirement. I don’t need it.”

Dib scoffed and shifted away.

Zim sighed and stroked Dib’s hand with his thumb, feeling the gentle pulse of blood running through Dib’s delicate human veins. “I told you that pair bonding isn’t inherently sexual.”

“Yeah, well, you told me it wasn’t _romantic_ , either,” Dib mumbled.

“Sure, but _it used to be_ ,” Zim said with soft intensity. “And it is with _me_ because I’m … an evolutionary throwback. A fluke.” He leaned his head against Dib’s shoulder and Dib tensed but didn’t move away. “And I love you. _A lot._ ”

"So you're all set to be with me forever, even if it means no sex," Dib said, clearly not buying it.

"I have you all to myself and that's all I need. Everything else is just cherries," Zim assured him.

"Just ... cherries?" Dib asked. Zim's odd choice of words was momentarily disarming.

"Yeah. You know ... like, on top?" Zim asked, looking up.

"I think the phrase is, 'Everything else is just gravy'," Dib said.

Zim made a face. "Who puts gravy on a sundae??" Zim asked, revolted.

Dib pulled him close. "No, you dumb bug. The idiom is —"

"You already called me _dumb_ , Dib. You don't have to _also_ call me an idiot," Zim said, crossing his arms.

"I ... Jesus H. Christ ..." Dib grabbed Zim and held him close before their argument could blossom into another screaming match.

Zim went still, confused about what was happening. "Does this mean ... we're okay now?" he asked cautiously.

Dib leaned his head on top of Zim’s. “Yeah, we're alright now. But damn, you have _got_ to quit getting so physical with me.”

“I already said we don’t have to have sex,” Zim insisted, right before Dib cut him off.

“I mean you can’t just haul me around when you’re irritated with me.”

“And you can’t just freeze me out whenever you’re feeling … err … whatever emotion you were feeling,” Zim finished lamely.

“Oh, the usual … inadequacy, insecurity, incompetence …” Dib said, counting off on his fingers.

“Well, learn to use your _words_ next time,” Zim sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Ugh, was fighting always this draining?? I feel terrible …” 

He wrapped his arms around Dib and buried his face in his shirt. He’d become shockingly dependent on Dib providing him physical comfort in order to feel better.

Dib hugged him tightly, one hand sneaking under his hat to stroke the ends of his antennae. “We’re gonna be okay,” Dib murmured as Zim nuzzled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner. I was just feeling embarrassed and stupid and I didn’t know where to even start.”

“And I need to be more mindful of your personal space and bodily autonomy,” Zim said softly. “That night when I saw how Trigger treated you … the way he grabbed you … I don’t want to be that.”

Dib’s hand faltered for a moment. “I’m not calling you an _abuser_ , Zim,” he insisted, sounding a touch upset. “I know you came from a culture that’s a lot more physically aggressive. Trigger was trying to use the threat of pain to _control me_ , whereas you’re just … kinda pushy, sometimes.”

“The end result to both is that you end up hurt, though,” Zim replied sadly. “I don’t want that.”

Dib kissed the top of his head, lingering for a few seconds. “You know, I think we’re both a little sleep deprived from this past week, and your blood sugar is almost certainly low.”

“Probably more blood than sugar,” Zim agreed, eager to change to a more pleasant topic of conversation.

“Should we go get desert?”

Zim nodded vigorously and slipped his hand into Dib’s as they made their way back to the sidewalk.

All of the shops were packed with nearly wall-to-wall people, given the fact that school was finally out and graduation was the next day. Dealing with the unwashed masses was not either of their strong suits, so once they’d successfully procured dessert, they made a beeline towards one of the more out-of-the-way parks, where it was decidedly much more quiet. The playscape was predictably empty, so they climbed to the top and snuggled up against one of the plastic lookout bubbles.

“You know those massive soup bowls they have at the pho place?” Zim asked, balancing a mountain of cake-flavored froyo with an avalanche of toppings, plus two taro bubble teas with star-shaped jelly. “They should let me put froyo in those.”

“You’d end up emptying out every single machine,” Dib pointed out with a laugh. 

He’d gone with a much more conservative amount of mango and pineapple froyo topped with a generous heap of rainbow mochi, plus a red bean frozen bubble tea that Zim personally thought was an affront to nature. He watched skeptically as Dib took a sip.

“You aren’t getting any kisses until you wash your mouth out. I hope you realize that,” Zim said, sticking his tongue out.

“You realize taro is a potato, right?” Dib asked with a smirk.

“It’s purple and I have no beef with potatoes, Dib,” Zim said pointedly. “I have _major_ beef with beans.”

“I never did figure out,” Dib said, pausing to take another long sip just to irritate Zim, “if you’re allergic to them, or just a really picky eater.”

Zim cast him a sidelong glance.

“I’m not gonna make you try it,” Dib assured him. “You’ve got two drinks. I want this one all to myself.”

“I was allergic to all the lunches they served at school,” Zim said, finally relaxing back against Dib and shoveling more froyo into his mouth. “Didn’t have anything better to do for a while, so I ended up running tests on it to see what the problem was.”

Dib pulled a face. “I’m sure I could tell you what the problem was … half that slop was _expired_ before it even got shipped to us.”

“Which is honestly kind of impressive, because it was also absolutely _loaded_ with preservatives. That turned out to be the main thing I was allergic to, which is why I started bringing my own lunch.” He scooped the last of the cookie dough bites from the bottom of his bowl. “Well, once I figured out that no one was going to call the FBI or child protective services on me for it.” He snuggled against Dib’s chest, sucking down his second bubble tea. "And that's why I started bringing you lunch as a peace offering."

"Huh, I'd forgotten about that," Dib said.

Since his dad was never around, there was no one to either make him a lunch or teach him how to put one together. Early on in their friendship, Zim had started doing small things to show his sincerity about no longer being mortal enemies. Sometimes it was thoughtful things like making Dib lunch (which were sometimes bacon waffles or other strange baked goods, courtesy of GIR), other times it was perplexing things like attempting to "fix" various household appliances that were never broken until Zim started tinkering with them.

“Anyway," Zim said, interrupting Dib's train of thought, "all that to say, I mostly just hate beans because they’re guilty by association.”

Zim placed a hand on Dib’s thigh, suddenly causing a cascade of rather inappropriate images to flood Dib’s mind and taking him entirely by surprise. It was the sort of stuff he usually reserved for his own private time in the shower and definitely not what he wanted to have going through his brain while they were sitting together in public. It had been a long while since he’d considered mind readers to be a legitimate risk, but he was almost certain that Zim would pick up on some tiny cue that he was currently fantasizing about Zim with an ovipositor bending him over the playscape railing and doing a little railing of his own.

“Irk to Dib … you in there?” Zim waved a hand in front of his face, making him snap back to reality so quickly he nearly got whiplash.

“Yeah. Sorry. What did you say?” Dib asked, going red.

“Why did your face look like it does when I kiss you?” Zim asked suspiciously.

Dib shifted nervously, which did nothing to help how aroused he was suddenly feeling. “Something about the way you touched me just now made me really turned on,” he admitted in hushed tones.

“Oh … is that bad? Do you want me to stop doing … whatever it was I just did?” Zim asked nervously. 

Dib mulled things over momentarily. On the one hand, his anxiety was screaming at him to turn back now, before he was in too deep — or Zim was too deeply in him — to quit. On the other hand, he _wanted it_. He wanted it with _Zim_ , specifically. Zim was the only person he had ever truly wanted and trusted enough to let inside him, in every possible way that could be interpreted.

Dib set his empty cup aside and shimmied down, pulling Zim all the way on top of him. He looked up to see Zim gazing down at him curiously, head backlit by a halo of silver light from the full moon. He carefully tucked some stray strands of hair behind Dib’s ear.

“I kind of want to do what we were doing earlier. You know …” He bucked his hips tentatively against Zim’s, giving him a searching look.

Zim gave a surprised chirp and snuggled in on top of him before vigorously grinding back. “Does this mean I get to mate with you tonight?” Zim whispered low in his ear.

“Not here …” Dib panted back, eyes closed.

“Of course not _here_. I mean when we get home.” Zim was chirping up a storm now and he _really_ hoped that anyone passing by would just assume that the crickets were _really_ going at it tonight.

“Look, I know there has to be something phallic down there, because I can feel it pressing against my cock,” Dib whispered without breaking from his rhythm. “And … well, you’ve seen my dildo collection. You can probably guess that I enjoy taking things between the legs. But …” He trailed off and was suddenly still except for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily. “I’m worried it makes me less of a man. Or that you’ll think I’m less of one.”

Zim kissed his cheek. “I would never think that, Dib. I promise.”

“It’s just that … doing this with you? I can mostly sidestep all my dysphoria and not worry about how you see me. But once I take my pants off … I probably don’t look like anything you’ve seen in anatomy textbooks or in porn or —”

Zim shuddered and shook his head. “ _Ew_. Okay, Dib. First of all … I’m not looking at _any_ of that stuff. You might recall I was conspicuously missing from your ‘sex ed’.”

“Oh, yeah … there was a rumour circulating that your parents were super old-school Catholics,” Dib said with a smirk.

“It was because looking at sexual organs usually makes me want to yak,” Zim explained. “Human, Irken, Vortian, whatever. I usually find those sorts of things repulsive. But when it comes to you … Okay, I’ll _admit_ I looked up pictures of typical trans anatomy _once_ , but it was just because you told me you might require my surgical prowess down there.” He pressed close and nuzzled Dib’s neck. “But you’ve always been a boy to me. I’ve never seen you as anything else. And whatever you have between your legs? As long as I can use it to make you feel good, that’s all I care about.”

Dib took a deep breath, then slowly nodded. “Okay. I can work with that. In that case … maybe you could try putting your hand between my legs and if that goes okay, we can try the whole … ya know … _mating_ thing, when we get home. Sound fair?”

Zim kissed his neck. “Very.” He straddled one of Dib’s legs and pressed his hand up against Dib’s crotch, looking down to see if his human was alright with what he was about to do. To his surprise, Dib quickly undid his jeans, then guided Zim’s hand inside. Zim relaxed against Dib’s body, grinding against his thigh and slowly working his hand down to explore between Dib’s legs. 

Dib was suddenly relieved that he’d made a point of shaving everything between down there just that morning. He wasn’t sure Zim’s reaction to plunging his hand straight into something furry would be all that favorable.

Zim's fingertips brushed Dib’s cock and he stifled a moan, hips pressing upwards. Zim took it between his fingers, rubbing the tip with his thumb. It was erect and growing harder with every stroke. While it probably would be difficult to take between his legs, Zim considered the possibility of putting it in his mouth. It was a thing that he’d heard was perfectly acceptable to do, and while he _never_ would have considered doing it for anyone else, the idea of putting his head between Dib’s thighs and listening to all the amazing sounds he would undoubtedly be making as Zim sucked him off had rapidly made it onto his shortlist of favorite mental images.

“You’re allowed to go a little lower,” Dib whispered suddenly, reaching down to guide Zim’s fingers up inside him, then press the heel of Zim’s palm against his cock. He held it in place as he rolled his hips against it. Zim swirled his fingers around inside, making Dib whimper with pleasure. “Good boy … such a good boy,” he murmured, the words bypassing whatever internal filter was in place when someone _wasn’t_ attempting to finger him to glorious completion.

“I could get used to that … you telling me how good I am,” Zim whimpered. He couldn't have been happier; this was practically one of his own, personal fantasies come to life. By this point, his cock was fully unsheathed and had slid its way right into his pussy. He was trying very hard not to come, but it was getting more and more difficult by the second.

“Someone’s got a little praise kink,” Dib said with a blissed-out grin.

Zim blushed and focused his energy on finger-fucking his mate well enough that he might be able to coax out a few more compliments.

“It’s okay … that one’s easy enough to indulge when you’re so amazing with your hands,” Dib murmured. “So much better than me … I bet you can get me off me even better than any of my toys ever could. I can’t wait to get home, get naked with you and just … l-let you f-fuck me … _ohhhh god_ …”

“Everything alright?” Zim asked, lifting his head up slightly to give Dib a concerned look.

“Fine … better than fine. I’m really close,” Dib squeaked out, breathing fast. “Like super … fucking … _oh, fuck … Zim!!_ ” He pressed his hard cock desperately into Zim’s palm, back arching and eyes hazy as he frantically fucked Zim’s fingers, letting them push him ever closer to the finish line. His body trembled and he put a hand over his mouth to stifle a sharp exclamation, right before Zim felt his walls tremble and pulse like a heartbeat.

Zim was frozen for a moment. The knowledge that Dib was currently climaxing into his hand was almost too hot to process. But his own member was begging for attention, and he figured that enjoying it with a few extra thrusts of his own couldn’t hurt. He could _definitely_ stop before he came all over his and Dib’s clothes. He humped Dib’s thigh with barely contained desperation, telling himself that this would be the last stroke … _no, this would … maybe just one more …_

The feeling of his cock abruptly pulsing told him that he might have gone _just_ a step too far. He swore, sitting up quickly and lunging for their stack of napkins, before stuffing them between his legs just as a torrent of cum soaked his leggings.

“Oh shit … did you just cream yourself??” Dib asked incredulously from beneath him. A smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth as he tried desperately not to laugh at Zim's situation.

“Shut up,” Zim whimpered pathetically. His cock was retracting back into his body, but that certainly wasn’t helping the situation. He shivered with revulsion as he experienced the distinct sensation of cum dripping down the inside of his thigh. It was a pity that every orgasm had to be followed immediately by a tidal wave of shame and disgust.

Dib handed him the rest of the napkins. “Here, stuff these inside so you’re not just wicking it through your pants. Otherwise you’re going to end up with a damp spot down to your knees.”

Zim cleaned himself up as well as he could, considering they were technically out in the open and Dib was watching him with barely contained amusement. He pulled the handful of napkins out of his pants, avoiding Dib’s eyes, then shoved them unceremoniously into his empty bowl. While he was busy pretending to sort the rest of their trash, Dib untied his hoodie from his own waist and carefully tied it around Zim’s. Zim finally looked up and Dib reached out to stroke his cheek.

“C’mere a second,” he said, coaxing Zim into his lap and hugging him tightly. Zim turned and hid his face just under Dib’s chin. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, but I promise you nobody will be able to tell,” Dib said soothingly. “It’s night, you’ve got dark leggings, and my hoodie is hiding basically everything.” He rubbed the base of Zim’s antennae under his hat, making Zim purr in his arms. “Soooo," he said nonchalantly, "is … Uh … that amount of cum _normal_ , or …?”

“Yeah …” Zim replied, face turning pink.

Dib leaned in so closely that Zim could feel his hot breath through his hat. “Good, because I want you to do that inside me once we’re home,” Dib murmured.

Zim squirmed in his arms. “Dib! You’re going to get me turned on again and I’m _not_ walking back to the car like that!”

Dib pulled him into a reassuring embrace. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

He went back to rubbing the base of Zim’s antennae, listening to the night chorus around them, and the distant hum of cars and people far off on the main drag. When he was in elementary school, still getting into fights with Zim and at odds with all of his peers, he thought that high school graduation would find him already an accomplished scientist with dozens of papers published on alien biology, valedictorian, and respected by his peers.

It was weird to realize that his classmates had gradually come to ignore him, he was in the top 10% of his class but far from valedictorian (thank the powers that be for that one, because giving a speech in front of those losers sounded like absolute hell to him now), and he had just had at least one sort of sex with the alien menace, which probably meant they were basically married according to Irken customs. He could only hope that things went as well once the clothes came off.

“So … are you going to give me an anatomy lesson now, or did you want it to be a surprise for later tonight?” Dib asked, snuggling close.

Zim shrunk back slightly. “I’d rather just show you once we get home … in case you freak out, or something,” he mumbled.

“Why would I freak out?”

Zim shrugged.

“Have you got a pincer or something down there?”

Zim sighed. “Dib …”

“Spikes? Claws? Teeth? A tentacle? Is your dick a corkscrew?? Do you not _have_ a dick??”

Zim silenced Dib with a finger over the mouth. “Can you just be _patient_ , please??”

Dib sighed dramatically. “Okay, _fine_. I can live with the mystery a little longer.”

They made their way back to the car, and Zim was relieved that Dib was no longer blocking him out. As cheesy as it was, he enjoyed singing along to the radio with Dib, windows down and feet up on the dash.

“After graduation tomorrow, I’m taking you on a three week space vacation.” Zim said as they sped through the night. “No arguing and no putting it off this time. We get our diplomas and we’re out of here.”

“Ugh, you’re telling me I need to pack tonight?” Dib said melodramatically. “I thought we were planning on just getting lost in each other all night.”

“Oh, believe me. You’re going to be walking funny for a week, Dib. That’s a promise,” Zim replied with a grin. “The ship’s already packed.”

“What?? When did you find time to do that??” Dib asked. Where was Zim finding all this spare time to jerk off and be productive??

“It was … um … before the whole … you know,” Zim mumbled. “I wanted to surprise you. It was going to be my graduation gift to you, and now it’s also my ‘thank you for agreeing to be my mate’ gift to you.”

“You say that like I’m doing you a favor by agreeing to be with you,” Dib said, reaching over to take his hand as they rolled to a stop in Zim’s cul-de-sac. “I want this. I want _you_.”

“And you can have me as soon as we get inside,” Zim said in what he really hoped was a sultry tone. He leaned over and kissed Dib deeply …

… Then squeaked and recoiled.

“ _Blech!!! Beans!! Wash your fucking mouth out, Dib!!_ ” he shrieked, opening the door and spitting frantically onto the pavement.

Dib rolled his eyes. “You _really_ know how to make a guy feel special,” he said, getting out of the car.

“ _Yeeeeeechhhhhh_!!! Oh, I’m gonna be sick …”

Dib fished around in his pocket and pulled out a butterscotch candy, which he shoved in Zim’s mouth before trotting up to the front door. “Just suck on that and you’ll feel better in no time,” he called over his shoulder.

Zim stopped gagging and stood up, miraculously better. He skittered into the house, hot on Dib’s heels.

Inside the house, GIR was watching movies at top volume, there was mud in the entryway, and a pig Zim didn’t recognize was taking up half the couch.

“I can’t see the movie!!” GIR yelled as they walked past.

“Hello to you, too,” Zim said irritably, stopping at the foot of the stairs while Dib continued up. He glanced at GIR’s companion. “What have I told you about having friends over, GIR?”

“Uhhh … Don’t,” GIR replied cheerily.

“So what do you think you’re …” Zim trailed off, glancing upstairs and assessing whether or not it was worth the fight to get this stranger out of his home at the expense of valuable time with a Dib who was currently both agreeable _and_ horny. “You know what? You two enjoy your movie. _But no one is sleeping over!_ ” he insisted before he disappeared up the steps.

Dib was in the bathroom, scrubbing the absolute hell out of his mouth, so Zim quietly stripped and hopped up on the bed to wait for him.

When Dib finally stepped out, he was wearing only his t-shirt and binder. “The shirt is staying on for now … but the rest of me is open for business,” Dib said nervously as he approached Zim.

Zim got up on his knees and embraced Dib, kissing up his neck, towards his mouth. Dib kissed him back excitedly, tongue in Zim’s mouth as he crawled up on the bed, bodies turning, pressing close, fumbling as they stubbornly kept their lips interlocked while Dib laid down on his back and Zim snuggled up on top of him.

“Should we pick up where we left off?” Zim asked, voice low as he reached between Dib’s legs.

“It’s a start,” Dib replied, pulling his shirt up slightly so he could feel Zim’s soft belly against his.

Zim’s fingertips brushed Dib’s cock, and Dib let out a soft gasp. Every nerve ending felt like it was turned up to eleven, and his cock grew even more erect under Zim’s touch. Zim took it between his fingers and gently stroked, prompting Dib to involuntarily open his legs a little wider as a sudden jolt of pleasure ran through him. Every fiber of his being was begging to have Zim up between his legs, hips slamming together, bodies entangled and hot and perspiring under the physical demands of frantic love-making.

Zim had straddled one of Dib’s legs and was rubbing against it exuberantly, chirping up a storm as he gently finger fucked him. 

“Not that I want you to stop, but it’s only fair if you show me what you’ve got between your legs, you know,” Dib said, breathless.

“You look like you’re having such a good time, though,” Zim said with a smile.

“I am,” Dib said hurriedly. “It’s just that … Christ, Zim. I really want to fuck you.”

Zim winced. “Choose a different phrase, Dib. That one sounds rough.” He kissed Dib’s lips, breath hot against his skin. “I don’t want to be rough with you. I want to hold you and make you feel good.”

“Fine,” Dib said, reaching between his legs to press Zim’s fingers all the way inside him. That left Zim’s palm resting against his cock, and Dib rubbed against it, his movements barely restrained. “I wanna make love to you, Zim,” he begged, bucking his hips skyward at a feverish tempo. “I want you closer …”

Zim moaned as he unabashedly humped Dib’s leg. “I want that with you, too. Just give me … a second … to unsheathe …”

“Unsheathe…?” Dib suddenly realized that he didn’t feel a cock against his thigh. He thought back to the handful of times he’d seen Zim naked and realized he hadn’t seen much of anything between his legs then, either. Not that he’d been specifically _looking_ , of course. “What, exactly, have you got down there?”

Zim thrust desperately against his thigh before letting out an ecstatic round of chirps. “Wanna take a wild guess?” he asked deviously, guiding Dib’s hand to his crotch.

Dib reached down, perplexed. His hand came in contact with something slimy and prehensile and he jumped as it attempted to curl around his finger.

“Rude,” Zim mumbled. 

“Sorry …” Dib pressed his palm against what felt distinctly like a dexterous, ribbed tentacle. Two smaller companions reached for his wrist, curiously stroking his skin. “Ohhhh my god. It’s like you’re smuggling a mini Kraken …” Dib whispered.

Zim scoffed. “Maybe not _that_ wild … reign it in a little, Dib. And be nice.” He rolled off to the side, revealing exactly what Dib had expected. One central tentacle, thick and pink and flanked by two smaller, squid-like grabbing tentacles protruded from between Zim’s thick, soft thighs.

“Are we really doing this?” Dib asked softly as he stared, transfixed.

Zim was suddenly back on top of him, chirping and kissing him. “Only if you want to …” he said softly, but the message was undercut slightly by the fact that he was biting Dib’s lip.

Dib pushed him back slightly, looking into his eyes as if searching for something. “Have you ever … done anything like this?” He asked nervously. “With anybody else?”

Zim cocked his head. “I didn’t have a mate before. So I’ve never … you know. _Mated_.”

“But have you ever kissed anyone before me?” Dib asked, sounding slightly distressed. “Done hand jobs? Finger fucking? Oral?”

Zim gave him an odd look. “Irkens don’t really join mouths like that, and the rest of that _still_ sounds like mating.” He reached up and brushed Dib’s bangs from his face. “Are you okay? Did I push you too far again? Because we can stop. Like I said … We don’t need to do this.”

Dib looked away. “I’m just feeling out of my depth and inadequate all over again,” he mumbled. “You’re going to be disappointed in my stupid human body. I can’t even take my shirt off because I feel so bad about my chest today. Yesterday I could have taken off my binder and let you just play with my nipples or something, but today, just thinking about my chest makes me feel sick.”

Zim held him close. “It’s okay, Dib. You can keep your shirt on. And I think you're being too hard on yourself. We’re more alike than we are different.” Before Dib could even respond, Zim grabbed his hand and directed his fingers up behind his tentacle. Zim was so wet that Dib’s fingers easily slid up inside him. “It’s on the small side, but it’s still definitely a pussy,” Zim said softly as Dib’s fingers explored inside him. “See? Not so different.” He reached back down between Dib’s legs with a playful grin. “That is, unless you’ve got a third thing I don’t know about …”

Dib grabbed his wrist in a panic. “I _highly suggest_ you don’t go any lower,” he said frantically. “This is going to be nerve-wracking enough without adding butt stuff into the mix.”

Zim recoiled. “Ew … is that really a thing humans do??”

Dib went scarlet. “I mean … yes? It’s not as ‘ew’ as you’d think," he rambled nervously. "Like … You know I have toys and it’s not as though I’ve never gotten curious enough to …” He suddenly stopped short and covered his face. “ _Oh my god_. Why am I telling you this?? Can you please just get inside me before I totally lose my nerve??”

“Only if you promise to tell me if you _do_ lose your nerve,” Zim said softly, taking his hand and pressing it into the mattress. “I want you to enjoy yourself.” His thigh was between Dib's own as he snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of Dib's body against him with next to nothing between them.

“I promise,” Dib whispered back.

Dib spread his legs in what he hoped was an inviting manner while Zim kissed up his neck, listening to the frantic pounding of his heart.

“You’re okay, Dib,” Zim murmured lovingly. “Your Zim’s got you. Just relax …”

Dib gasped as it slid over his own cock, and by the time it had begun making its way up inside him, he was several octaves deep into a progressively more shrill moan.

“Oh fuck … ohhh fuck, you’re actually inside me …” he mumbled as his brain emptied of anything outside of how good it felt to finally be making love to Zim. 

Zim's tentacle was gently tapered, slowly gaining girth as it went. Dib whimpered and held Zim tighter, only starting to relax again as his mate whispered words of reassurance softly into his ear.

“Fuck, that’s thick,” Dib mumbled, his pussy stretching to its limit.

“Girth is proportional to arousal, and you’ve got me so turned on, I can barely think straight,” Zim panted.

It suddenly occurred to Dib that he’d never been this close with another person before; never had someone hold him and slip inside him and gently talk him through getting fucked. Zim’s tentacle explored delicately, stretching him and massaging his walls, making his arousal shoot to absurd levels. There was a hungry, desperate desire awakening in him, telling him to just grab Zim and frantically take that bright pink tentacle over and over until his needs were finally satiated and the release his body craved washed over him.

“I love you, Zim …” he murmured.

“Oh, _now_ you say that you love me?” Zim said, amused.

“I can’t really just say ‘I like you a whole lot’ when your cock is up inside me!” Dib said defensively, panting. “I _do_ love you and now is just as good a time as any to finally admit it …”

More and more, he could feel his body begging for release. He reached for Zim’s ass and bucked his hips upwards, eliciting another round of excited chirping from Zim, and a moan from his own lips. The base of Zim’s tentacle was studded with little nubs that pleasured his cock as he rubbed against it. He arched his back and rolled his hips so that he was taking Zim’s cock deeper while pleasuring his own, and before he knew it, a wave of ecstasy was washing over him and he was loudly shrieking Zim’s name. He trembled, back arched, before collapsing back against the mattress in a heap.

When he opened his eyes, Zim was looking down on him, concerned.

“ _What_ just happened??” Zim asked, bewildered.

“I … I’m so sorry … I kind of just came …” Dib squeaked out, mortified.

Zim relaxed against him. “Oh, good. I was worried I’d hurt you. Are you still …? Do you want … I mean, can you …”

“I can get off again,” Dib said hurriedly. “I mean, I want to. Kind of need to, even?”

“Okay. Perfect, because I don’t think those things will let go until I finish …”

Dib looked down between their bodies, abruptly aware that two slightly smaller tentacles had secured themselves to his hips. “What do you mean, _you don’t think_?”

“I’ve never done this with someone else before! And it’s not exactly like they have anything to hold onto when I’m inside myself,” Zim huffed.

The words took a moment to fully click in Dib’s brain. “Wait … _Wait_. When you need to get off, you just …” Dib mimed curling his tentacle into his hole. “You _literally_ fuck yourself??”

“Yes,” Zim said defensively. “Wouldn’t you??”

“I absolutely _would_ ,” Dib replied, thrusting upwards. He looked at Zim through half-lidded eyes. “So … You _really_ haven’t done this with anyone else?” he asked softly.

Dib was still processing the fact that they had both just gently taken each other’s virginity. He had previously resigned himself to the idea of Zim fucking his way through Invader Academy, as upset as it had made him to think about. In contrast, the thought of Zim, spread-legged and fucking himself, might have been the hottest thing to ever cross Dib’s mind. He filed that away as something he’d need to revisit later. 

“No one but you, Dib.” Zim promised. “You’re the only one who makes me all … dumb and drippy and chirpy. I feel like I was just waiting for you.” He nuzzled against Dib’s neck. “What about you?” he whispered, so close that his breath was hot against Dib’s skin. “Were you waiting for me, too?”

Dib put a finger under Zim’s chin, and he turned to look up. “Yeah … I guess I was. If I had to choose, having you as my first and only is definitely the way I’d want it.” 

“Only?” Zim asked, hot and deafeningly close.

“You’re the only one I want,” Dib replied. He pressed his lips to Zim’s, setting off another ecstatic round of chirping as Zim’s cock undulated and stroked inside him. Dib reached down and held Zim’s hips, guiding him to thrust in and out as much as the tentacles connecting them would allow. Then he reached down behind Zim, fingers searching for his pussy and making Zim arch his back and trill as soon as they made their way inside.

“Feels good?” Dib panted.

“So good,” Zim moaned, kissing his lips and jaw line and grinding against him. “I love you … Fuck, I haven't told you how amazing it feels to be able to say it … I love you, Dib. I love you so much ...”

Dib usually spent as much time as possible attempting to ignore his body, but the way Zim touched him and pleasured him and showered him with love made him feel incredibly at ease and forget all the bits that were wrong. To his credit, Zim didn’t care that Dib came with some assembly required; his entire species couldn’t even survive ten minutes — literally — without the aid of their PAKs. So if Dib needed a couple surgeries to finally have the right body? That could be remedied easily enough.

Zim’s tentacle stretched him wide just as Dib bucked his hips up, rubbing his cock against Zim’s body.

“Oh fuck…!!” Dib gasped, stars exploding in his vision. 

Zim stopped and looked up from where he’d been resting his head and kissing Dib’s neck.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Don’t stop … I’m _really_ close,” Dib whispered, desperation dripping off his voice.

“Is that common for humans? The multiple orgasm thing?” Zim asked with an antenna perked.

“It is for humans who are on hormones that make them want to get railed by the cute alien next door,” Dib said in between kissing Zim’s face. 

“You live over half a mile from here. That’s hardly ‘next door’. That’s like … several doors, at least,” Zim said with a puzzled expression. 

“Oh my god, Zim. It’s just a phrase. Can we please get back to fucking?” His cock was tingling in a way that made him want to just grab Zim’s ass, hold him in place, and grind until both of them finally experienced the sweet release of unrestrained climax.

“I … have a couple questions first,” Zim said tentatively. He tried to pull out but they were still stuck. He blushed deeply. “Um … can we talk like this? Is that okay?”

Dib wrapped his legs around Zim’s hips. “I guess I’ll survive. What’s so important that we had to stop mid-fuck?”

Zim ducked his head bashfully. “Sorry … I just wanted to know …” He looked away. “Okay. How do I put this? Human _happy_ noises and _hurt_ noises sound almost the same. You don’t chirp or trill or purr. So … how do I know I’m _not_ hurting you? How do I know you like what I’m doing and want to keep doing it?”

“Aw, Zim …” Dib put his arms around him, too, wrapping him in a full body hug. “That’s … actually really sweet. In general, unless I’m quiet or not physically responding or outright tell you to stop, you should be fine.”

Zim looked relieved. “That’s so much less trouble than I thought it was going to be. Alright. Second question … this one's more fun, I promise. Have you got a little cluster of nerves somewhere up in there?” He stroked his tip down inside Dib, who immediately squirmed beneath him.

“Ah! There’s _all sorts_ of nerves down there,” he squeaked out. 

“Sure, but is there somewhere it feels _especially_ good?” Zim purred. “On me, it would be about … here.”

Dib’s back immediately arched and he clung to Zim while he desperately rubbed against him. “Ohhh, don’t stop … even when I come, don’t stop. Just fuck me through it …”

No sooner had he said that, than his entire body curled up around Zim as he whimpered with pleasure. Zim faltered for a moment until Dib started repeating desperate little _I-love-you_ ’s under his breath, then he pressed in and redoubled his efforts while trying to move his hips the way Dib wanted.

“When I’m just grinding against you … does that feel like anything to you?” Dib panted, eyes closed as Zim rolled his hips and thrust in and out of him. “Cuz human guys … there’s kind of this trope that it doesn’t do anything for them so you shouldn’t bother …”

Zim suddenly stopped and cocked his head. “But if it feels good to you, shouldn’t that count for something?” he asked, bewildered.

“I guess … but I'm just trying to make this a pleasurable experience for you,” Dib replied self-consciously.

“And I want the same for you,” Zim said, brushing a finger against Dib’s cheek. “Sometimes those aren’t the same thing. That’s okay.” 

A small smile appeared on Dib’s face, and Zim leaned down towards his ear. “But, in this case, when you grind against me, it feels amazing.” He gave Dib’s cock one long stroke to illustrate the point, whimpering pleasurably right in his ear. “Not to mention, all that thrusting? Not a necessity when your dick is prehensile.” He trailed his lips to Dib’s own and kissed him passionately, using his tongue to force Dib’s mouth open, grinding against his cock and swirling his tentacle in circles around Dib’s pussy. Dib moaned into his open mouth, relaxing back and determined to allow Zim to make him feel good.

Zim’s fingers were in his hair, twirling and tangling, nails gently trailing over his scalp. Their kisses had grown slower, in contrast to the desperate way Zim was rubbing against him. Zim’s tongue was inching closer and closer to the back of his throat, but it finally retracted at the last second.

“Still good?” he whispered, his forehead against Dib’s as he rolled his hips and stroked Dib’s pussy with the tip of his cock.

“Yeah …” Dib whispered back, bucking his hips desperately upwards. “I love you …”

Zim thrust up into him, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Oh, fuck, Zim … I love you so much …”

Dib’s whispered words sent a tingle down Zim’s spine. It helped that Dib smelled so amazing that it was almost blinding.

“I wanna make you come …” Dib mumbled, drunk on pleasure and nearly incoherent.

His sharp, high _ah’s_ of pleasure mingled with Zim’s chirping and it covered everything like a blanket.

“Fuck, I want you to fill me up, _please_ …”

Zim kissed up Dib’s neck, nipped his earlobe.

“Please please _please_ … _ohhh, I love you_ …”

Zim gasped as Dib reached around and slid a couple fingers inside him again, stroking him with shaky movements. He could feel the pressure building between his legs, making him desperate and stupid. He was supposed to _say something_ , right? Warn Dib of his impending orgasm? But he couldn’t find the words so instead he pressed his mouth to Dib’s, stopping him mid-“please”, slid his tongue inside, and kissed him passionately as his cock finally spilled over. Beneath him, Dib’s arched back and frantic whimpers suggested he was experiencing a similar release. Zim was practically seeing stars; Dib’s heartbeat and ragged breathing were deafening and his orgasm felt never-ending, his cock still pulsing and pouring out into his lover. By the time he was finally empty, the sheets were soaked and Dib was a trembling, blissed-out mess beneath him.

He could feel his cock slowly sliding back inside him as Dib played with the ends of his antennae and attempted to catch his breath.

“This is the part where you tell me I’m good, right?” Zim asked with a kiss.

“You need me to tell you you’re good?” Dib thought the breathtakingly loud climax he’d just experienced would have been evidence enough of how well Zim had pleasured him.

“It would be nice of you, yeah,” Zim said as he cuddled up underneath Dib’s chin. A little worry that his constant need for reassurance was tiring nagged him in the back of his mind.

“Okay. You’re the fucking best and I love you even though you’ve probably permanently ruined my sheets.” He kissed the top of Zim’s head and held him close, nuzzling gently against him. “Fuck, Zim … I love you,” he breathed.

“You already said that …”

“I know … I just …” Dib stopped and kissed the top of his head. “I need you to know that I _mean it_. That I’m going to take care of you. I came over here in the first place because I was worried something had happened and I was so scared _for you_ when you lost it the minute I tried to come inside … I think I knew right then that I wasn’t leaving until you were okay …”

“Please don’t leave me even when I _am_ okay,” Zim whispered, pressing against him. “I guess it might never reach that point. I don’t know. But if it does … stay with me. Please. You’re my mate now. We … we made it official … please don’t …” Zim took a shaky breath and wiped his eyes on the back of his hands. Why did everything have to make him feel so small and vulnerable lately?

“Shhh … it’s okay. I’ve got you, Zim,” Dib murmured, lips against his skin. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting go.”

“Say you promise.” Zim’s voice was high and wavering.

“I promise. You’re mine and I promise I won’t leave you. I want you to be mine forever.”

Zim kissed his neck, lips still unpracticed even after the last few days, warm and wet against his skin. Dib’s breathing grew shallow, his heart skipping a beat. Zim reached between Dib’s legs, taking his cock between his fingers and stroking it.

“I could get you off again,” Zim whispered in his ear, one finger teasing his entrance.

Dib did his best to refrain from simply grabbing Zim’s hand and fucking it with wild abandon. “You don’t have to ply me with more sex, Zim. I already love you. It’s okay.”

Zim shook his head. “I’m offering because you smell good; _turned-on_ good. And … also because I don’t want to go to sleep,” he admitted, looking away. “Some part is terrified that this is just an amazingly realistic dream …”

Dib put a finger beneath his chin and kissed him, long and deep and lovingly. Zim purred, hands making their way into Dib’s wild hair.

“I promise you, all of this is real,” Dib whispered as he kissed up Zim’s cheek. “I’ll be right here beside you when you wake up, still yours and still very, very in love with you.”

The attention felt good, but Zim still wanted more. He pressed against Dib, everything between their legs still noticeably slick. Dib moaned softly as Zim slid against his cock, making everything tingle. 

“Can we please do it one more time? I still want to lose myself in you, just for a little bit longer …” Zim rubbed against Dib’s nethers, chirping softly. He had enjoyed getting Dib off just about as much as he enjoyed climaxing, himself.

“Alright. One more time,” Dib replied with a kiss. “As long as you know I love you no matter what.”

“Forever?” Zim panted, rubbing faster as he felt his cock begin to re-emerge, eagerly sliding from his body and slowly circling Dib’s warm, wet hole. He had a feeling it wouldn't be just one more time.

Dib kissed his lips gently, lingering as he whispered soft reassurance. “I’ll love you forever. I promise,” he said as Zim’s tentacle slipped inside him. 

He grabbed Zim’s ass, helpless against the waves of pleasure rolling through his body. He bucked his hips up in time for Zim to roll against him. Zim’s mouth hung open and Dib nipped his bottom lip, then kissed it. Everything was moving faster now, and he whispered in time with every upwards thrust. 

“I _love_ you. _Forever_ and _ever_ and _ever_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the interested, previous versions of the end-of-chapter smut are going to be posted as Patreon exclusives.


	7. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim has to face the fact that being with Dib romantically is not going to fix all of his trauma overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while exceedingly touch-starved and I'm positive it shows >_>;;;
> 
> Also, this cut is PG-13. There's a shower scene, but it's pretty chaste. If you are 18+ and would like to read the 18+ cut, that's available [ONLY on Patreon.](https://patreon.com/StarlitVesper)
> 
> Also also ... This chapter still deals with heavy topics such as suicide, trauma, PTSD, and that thing where I use embarrassment as a vehicle for emotional intimacy. If any of that bothers you ... then I genuinely don't know how you got this far and for the love of all that is good and holy don't force yourself to deal with triggering topics!

_Well you can't get what you want_  
_But you can get me_  
_So let's set out to sea_  
_'Cause you are my medicine_

— **Gorillaz** , [_On Melancholy Hill_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04mfKJWDSzI)

* * *

_I._

If someone had told Dib back when Zim first showed up in class that the two of them would become close friends just a handful of years down the road — close enough that Dib would regularly sleep over in order to avoid his father — Dib probably would have laughed. A younger Dib couldn’t have conceptualized how much they would come to discover they had in common, or understand how a slightly older Dib would throw away his chance of proving the existence of aliens just to have someone who really _got_ him. Someone who ultimately would come to _need_ him and fall hopelessly in love with him. 

Someone he’d fallen hopelessly in love with right back. 

The little Irken was currently curled up against his chest, breathing slow and even, expression peaceful. His antennae twitched slightly and Dib wondered if he was dreaming. Hopefully, for once, it was a pleasant dream.

Taking on a partner with severe trauma probably should have had Dib terrified out of his mind. But his only worries had been for Zim; how would he function without help? Who would bring him back to the present and calm him down after an episode? Dib already did all this as a friend. Doing it as a partner just meant he was allowed to cuddle Zim without worrying about pushing boundaries.

As hard as it had been to let anyone get emotionally or physically close to him over the years, it felt shockingly natural to be close with Zim. It was as if each of them had been maintaining a sort of romantic tension for years, and now that the tension was gone, ll they could do was collapse into each other.

Zim suddenly curled in on himself, his expression worried as he let out a soft whimper. Dib immediately stroked his antennae in an attempt to calm him.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay …” he whispered, cuddling Zim against his chest. He moved his hand to the small of Zim’s back, but was shocked when Zim choked out a small, “No!” He jumped back slightly, only to find that Zim was still asleep. However, he seemed increasingly unsettled. His brow creased and he curled in on himself, whimpering and mumbling in frantic tones.

“Zim? Are you okay?” Dib asked cautiously.

Zim only mumbled something desperately in reply, eyes squeezed shut.

“Zim? Hey …” Dib moved to hold his mate close again.

There was a sudden yelp and Zim scrambled to sit upright.

_“No!! Stop!! You can’t do this!!”_ Zim screeched, sounding suddenly terrified out of his mind.

Dib was shocked into silence, frozen in place. He’d heard Zim sound angry and upset before. But this blind terror was new. Zim wasn’t even trying to fight and was instead cowering on the far corner of the bed. Dib tried to move closer but Zim shrieked and trembled.

“No!! NO!! Don’t touch me!! Leave me alone!!” Zim’s eyes were wide with terror, filled with ghosts Dib would never be able to see.

Dib didn’t dare reach out, scared he might set Zim off further. “It's just Dib ... I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

Zim looked at him, eyes focusing on his face, and finally seemed to register the reality of his surroundings. Much to Dib’s relief, it looked like they were going to be able to avoid a scuffle tonight. However, before he could even say anything, he caught Zim’s face going from confusion, to relief, then to utter embarrassment in a fraction of a second.

“Are you alright?” Dib asked, shifting closer.

“Fuck … don’t be mad,” Zim whispered, eyes wide and antennae trembling behind his head. 

“What would I be mad about?” Dib asked gently as he sat next to Zim. He realized what the problem was a split second before Zim got up the courage to whisper it.

“The … the sheets are wet,” Zim said, utterly mortified. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry …”

He was glued in place, fully prepared for Dib to be aggravated (“ _Again_?? That’s the second time this week!”) or even flat out disgusted (“What’s _wrong_ with you??”). He was more than a little shocked when Dib reached out and stroked his cheek. 

“Hey, it’s alright. We got lucky this time — neither of us were wearing anything and the sheets were kinda gross anyway. Go shower off and I’ll deal with this.”

Zim just looked down, visibly trembling, and Dib was worried he was going to break down completely. He wrapped Zim in a hug, kissing his shoulder delicately. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it and we can forget it ever happened.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me …” Zim said shakily. He’d never felt more awful about himself than he did just then. “I don’t know what happened. I was supposed to be getting _better_ … I wasn’t supposed to start getting _worse again._ Especially not _this_ much worse!! It's … It’s not fair!”

“Shhh … First of all, I’m not mad at you. I promise,” Dib murmured, trying to stop Zim before he started spiraling. “And second … This is _exactly_ why I tried to warn you that trauma is tricky. I didn’t want you to be so hard on yourself. People backslide. It happens.” 

“Yeah … _People_. Not me. Not Zim!”

“Believe it or not, you’re still people, too.”

Zim didn’t seem to be listening. He was too busy mumbling increasingly angry things to himself.

“Just try to breathe, alright?” Dib said gently.

Zim squeezed Dib tight, body still trembling even as Dib whispered reassurance to him.

“I know it’s tempting to be upset with yourself, but you aren’t giving yourself enough credit,” Dib pointed out as he gave his mate a reassuring little back rub. “It looked like you snapped out of it pretty quickly after you woke up, and you didn’t hurt me. That’s worth celebrating.”

“I guess … and you mentioned earlier this sometimes happens when you start processing a new part of your trauma, right?” Zim asked in a cautious tone.

“That's definitely what happened in my case.”

Zim shifted nervously. “I want to give you some sort of context, so ... Can I tell you something?” he asked, voice small. 

Dib gently stroked an antenna, thumbing the end. “You can always tell me something.”

Zim trembled like a leaf and Dib shifted over a bit, reaching for the throw at the end of the bed.

“Here … if we’re gonna talk, move over and wrap up in this. I don’t want you to get cold.”

Dib draped the blanket over Zim’s shoulders, then lovingly guided Zim into his lap and wrapped him up the rest of the way.

“There’s a good bug,” Dib murmured soothingly as Zim hid his face in Dib’s shirt. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here to hold you for as long as it takes.”

He looked so small and fragile, and Dib couldn’t help but feel like the Zim he held in his arms was an altogether different Zim than he’d first met in class all those years ago. Dib hated to see him struggling so much, but there was a hidden upside that he was a little reticent to bring up, in case Zim took it the wrong way. 

Zim had always struggled emotionally in the same ways Dib did; too many emotions that were all too strong and that he could neither identify nor control. As much as Zim’s experience had broken him in a lot of ways, it was forcing him to start processing instead of just reacting. Dib had to wonder if they would even be together right now if Zim’s trauma hadn’t forced them to occupy the same space.

There was, of course, the added weight of how much Zim genuinely needed Dib around now. Zim was still hiding his face in his shirt, and Dib could feel the heat of every even breath Zim took in an attempt to calm himself. His entire demeanor just made Dib want to protect him. The ways in which Zim shut down had worried him quite a bit initially; it was strange to watch his friend lose the ability to communicate verbally, or cry because he woke up alone (Dib learned pretty quickly not to slip away to watch TV), or silently press close for physical comfort. But once Dib had done some reading — late at night, with Zim held protectively against his chest, of course — and discovered that it wasn’t all that strange a reaction to traumatic events, things had begun to slide into place. 

He recalled all the times he’d found himself overwhelmed, feeling small and vulnerable and unable to speak. It would have helped to have been able to just grab Zim and hold him tight then. He hoped that Zim felt better knowing Dib would happily cradle him in his arms all night.

“You’re safe with me,” he reassured Zim. “I love you and everything is going to be alright.”

Zim finally peeked back out, and Dib lovingly stroked his cheek.

"Is it? Going to be alright, I mean," Zim mumbled.

“It will," Dib said. "Whatever you need to tell me, I’m here for you.”

“No judgment?” Zim asked softly. 

“Not ever.”

Zim nodded slowly, mulling over what he was about to divulge. “So, the flashback I woke up in the middle of … Remember when I said they put me in my old uniform for the trial?” he asked, voice still tinged with misery. 

“Yes …” Dib looked a little angry. “It takes a special kind of sadist to weaponize something you used to care about like that.”

“They’re good at that kind of thing," Zim replied bitterly. "Anyway, I kind of … put up a fight when they gave me orders to switch clothes.” Zim's voice was barely above a whisper and he seemed distant as he played absently with the hem of the blanket, running his fingers through the fringe. “And I guess they wanted to ... put me in my place or something? So they tore my clothes off. _Literally_ tore them off. All I remember thinking was how you’d given me that neon pink shirt and I was never going to get another like it. It was the one you’d gotten on that vacation? You know … Early on. When we first started hanging out for extended periods of time. You said you’d bring me something back because I was upset you were leaving me behind. Do you remember that one?” He looked up, distressed and aware that he was babbling.

Dib wasn’t quite sure why this detail was so important. “What, the one I got you from the _one_ time dad took me and Gaz to Florida?” He looked a little put out as he recalled that particular summer. “And it was for one of dad's boring as hell conferences too … ugh. I would have rather stayed with you. But I think dad wouldn’t let me just decide to not come …” Dib glared at the floor for a moment, remembering how he had _begged_ to be left behind. His father did it often enough that he wasn't sure how it was suddenly a problem in that specific instance. He shook his head to clear the memories from his mind. “Sorry. Got lost for a second, there. Is that the trip you mean?”

Zim nodded. “That’s the one.” He looked away, eyes unfocused. “While everything was happening, the one clear thought in my mind was that they’d ruined that shirt and I’d never get another one.”

Dib kissed the top of his head. “I’ll take you to Florida and you can pick out an even better one. And it’ll be a better vacation than the one I had. The best part of that trip was imagining you wearing all the tacky tourist stuff.”

“I’d like that …” Zim leaned his head against Dib’s shoulder, picking lint off of the blanket and rolling it into ball. The next bit was going to be harder to say out loud, and he suddenly felt viscerally uncomfortable. He squirmed and whined softly. “I want to tell you what happened but … it's difficult.”

“I won’t judge you, but it’s ultimately your decision,” Dib assured him. One hand was behind Zim’s head, fingers swirling in tiny circles. Constant. Consistent. Reassuring. “What are you worried about?” he asked softly.

“Don’t want you think I’m gross,” Zim muttered.

“You’re worried that _I’ll_ think _you’re_ gross??” Dib asked with a perplexed smile. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Yeah … alright,” Zim said, still sounding reticent. “Okay. So they …” He stopped, sighed loudly, and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t have … I mean, there _is_ a word. But I hate it and I don’t want to use it. They … Ugh, I hate this … alright.” The word _torture_ , while accurate, felt like it was stripping away the last of his dignity. Much like _Defective_ stripped him of his worth as a being. Zim pressed his palms against his eyelids and took a deep breath. “They hurt me in a million possible ways.”

He felt Dib stiffen but wanted to get the whole story out before he lost his nerve completely. “On Irk, you’re expected to deal with pain with dignity. You don’t scream. You don’t draw attention to the fact that you’re hurt. You certainly don’t cry about it." His voice was soft, but still betrayed the bitterness and hurt he felt.

“Zim …” Dib pulled him close and buried his face in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry …”

“I shouldn't have kept trying to fight them. It got worse every time. And, eventually, even when I wasn't resisting any longer, they just wouldn't stop. It got to a point where I couldn't even move … but maybe I’m just weak … maybe I’ve been off Irk too long …” Zim said as his voice pitched upwards, eyes squeezed shut. 

“You aren’t weak,” Dib murmured. “You’re anything but weak.”

“Maybe my PAK wasn’t working right … they’d disabled it so I couldn’t fight back. Maybe it wasn’t blocking out pain like it should have,” Zim continued, sounding as if he was taking mostly to himself. “At some point, they jumped to the sort of electrical 'therapy' I used to get in order to reset parts of my PAK. Except that _this_ was a hundred times stronger.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “It knocked me out. I don’t know for how long. But when I woke up, it was because I was laying in a puddle, getting beaten and told how disgusting and pathetic I was.” 

His breath caught in his throat and his grip on Dib’s arm tightened. “I should have fought harder. They said I didn’t deserve to be alive, to be called an Irken, let alone to be called an Invader ... and they were _right_. I’m pathetic. Weak. Maybe I’ve always been weak. If I had been stronger, I would have fought them off, saved all those smeets —”

“You need to quit blaming yourself for that. Please,” Dib begged, looking into his eyes with concern. “None of this is because you weren’t strong enough.” 

He went to brush Zim’s tears away, but Zim turned his head to hide his face in Dib’s shirt again, looking ashamed of himself. Dib put a hand on his head and gently rubbed the base of his antennae. That seemed to be enough to calm Zim down without fully making him go catatonic.

“Just … forget being a good Irken,” Dib said gently. “You’re a good person, who cares about standing up for the people who aren’t able to stand up for themselves. You’re a good friend, who’s saved my life several times and taken me in when my family didn’t want me anymore. And you’re shaping up to be a fantastic mate. You …” Dib paused, blushing deeply. “You were really sweet and gentle with me, earlier. I mean, it’s embarrassing, right? Letting someone get that close to you. But you made me feel safe and loved and cared for. I’ve never felt all that before.”

Zim turned and looked up at him, still radiating misery.

“You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?” Dib said with a sad smile.

“I’m still disgusted by all this,” Zim muttered, looking a bit angry. 

“I’m not.”

“Eh?” Zim was slightly taken aback by Dib’s blasé response. “What do you mean, you’re not?”

Dib shrugged. “I’ve experienced much grosser things. This isn’t even the top ten.”

"What's top ten, then?" Zim asked, mostly to shift the topic of conversation away from himself.

"Let's see ... the cafeteria food, for sure. Me, that time I spent months waiting for you to reappear." He glanced over to see Zim nodding in agreement. "That time you molted —"

Zim put a hand over Dib's mouth. "That was a once-per-millennium event," Zim insisted. “In any case …" He paused, abruptly blushing and looking sheepish. "Uh. Shit. Maybe that’s stupid to ask..."

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it if it makes you feel better,” Dib promised. 

"Maybe …" Zim started to mumble, before sighing heavily. "Look, I don’t need the help, but if you’d be willing to shower with me, it would go a long way to convincing me you aren’t put off by all this.”

“Of course,” Dib said, kissing his cheek. 

“I know it sounds dumb, but being physically punished for being revolting really gave me a complex,” Zim mumbled, hanging his head over Dib’s shoulder.

“Not dumb,” Dib said, turning to kiss him. “And you’re not revolting. The bed, on the other hand …” He glanced towards the sheets that had seen better days. “We probably should swap the sheets out either way.”

Zim nodded and snuggled against his chest.

Dib rubbed his back. “You look like you want to be carried.”

Zim’s antennae dropped back behind his head. “Don’t carry Zim …” he grumbled moodily.

Dib shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just thought I’d offer.” He went to stand up, but Zim wouldn’t move. “Zim … if you don’t want to be carried, you’re going to need to get out of my lap.”

Zim sighed irritably. “Fine. You have permission to carry Zim.”

Zim wrapped his legs around Dib’s waist as Dib stood up with him. He rested his chin on Dib’s shoulder, purring softly as Dib ruffled his antennae.

“You know, it’s okay to ask for what you want,” Dib reminded him gently as they headed for the shower. “I don’t know the exact rules for your culture, but I’m guessing they don’t look too favorably on people who ask for help.” He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, hugging Zim close. “Just remember that I’m not Irken. I won’t judge you like that.”

He turned on the water, waiting for it to warm up and rubbing Zim’s back. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he said quietly, “but taking care of you … tending to your needs … it feels really good.”

“Being taken care of feels really good,” Zim whispered back. “I’m … a little scared I _need_ you. Is that a bad thing, if I do?”

“I thought that was why you wanted me as your mate. We need each other.” Dib put his hand under the water. “That should be warm enough. Hop in.”

Zim climbed out of his lap and into the shower, and Dib followed just behind him.

Dib grabbed a washcloth from the shelf outside the shower and grabbed a bar of soap. Zim stood in front of him, looking small and vulnerable.

“You’re really cute,” Dib said softly.

“Eh?” Zim cocked his head.

“Sorry … was that insulting?” Dib asked nervously. “You’re just … I don’t know.” He started gently washing Zim’s face, working his way steadily downwards. He couldn’t help but smile when Zim started purring. “I want to take care of you. And it’s weird, because I’ve never had ‘carer’ instincts. Remember that stupid baby project they had us do, back in middle school?”

Zim looked skeptical. “Didn’t you, uh, _kind of_ murder yours?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly my point … I’ve never been good caring for people, especially when the task isn’t easy,” Dib admitted. “You probably have better instincts for that sort of thing than I do. But, when I saw the shape you were in last week, it’s like some part of me finally woke up. I wanted to make you happy and comfort you and take care of all of your needs.” He lifted Zim’s arm to wash under it, taking in the freckles that dotted Zim’s shoulders and upper arms.

“Some of the things we’ve done … they’re more intimate than mating. And completely taboo back on Irk,” Zim said softly. 

“How so?” Dib asked, suddenly looking nervous. His hand, which had been moving in small circles along Zim’s chest, suddenly faltered.

Zim put a hand on his. “If I’m purring, I’m comfortable and enjoying myself, Dib.”

Dib nodded and went back to washing him, though his movements were that much more delicate.

“Irkens are supposed to hide ourselves away when we’re hurt,” Zim explained. “So, when I let you wash me up that first day, it was a display of vulnerability that just isn’t done. Even if I had been dying and you took care of me, that would be something that would destroy my honor for good. Your data won't be allowed into the collective after death. It’s better to die alone in the dark than to allow someone to see you suffering.”

“Does that extend to emotional suffering?” Dib asked.

Zim nodded. “All the times you’ve helped me ground myself, all the times you’ve held me while I cried, and even something like this, where I’m embarrassed and emotionally vulnerable … Irken society would be disgusted with me. Emotional vulnerability on that scale is a crime worthy of being kicked out of Invader Academy and _banished_ , at minimum. It’s one of the signs that you’re broken … Defective … and you can be Deactivated just for that.”

“Is that why you’ve always been physically distant up until now?” Dib asked as his hand made its way up Zim’s thigh. 

Zim was momentarily at a loss for words. It clearly wasn't the precursor to anything more intimate, but it still caught him off guard. He noticed Dib glancing up at him and blushed. Even with all the attention Dib had given him, this level of emotional intimacy felt new and raw. It was strange to have Dib’s hand between his legs in a completely non-sexual context, and stranger still to let Dib care for him without his instincts kicking up a fight.

“Sorry … maybe I should have let you do that, yourself,” Dib mumbled, suddenly looking sheepish.

Zim put a hand on his. “It’s different, being this vulnerable. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel strangely good.” He let Dib get back to work while he mulled some things over. They were at a point where Zim could finally be honest in a way he never could previously. “I wanted to be close with you before now, but I didn’t know how it would go over. Once the worst possible thing happened, I didn’t have to worry anymore about being taken for an Existence Evaluation and them finding memories of me being held by you.” He bit his lip nervously. “If they find me now, I’m dead either way.”

Dib stood up and held him close. “I won’t let that happen. I don’t care what I have to do; they aren’t going to take you from me.”

Zim wanted to scoff at that. There was no way Dib — his thin, willowy, beanpole of a human — could realistically fight off an Armada of furious Irkens. Even with all their combined tech, there was no doubt in his mind that they would be dead within seconds of returning fire. But there was something in the way Dib held him that told him Dib would sooner die trying than let him be taken.

“I noticed … that your leg healed up nicely,” Dib said, turning red.

Zim looked down. The wound Dib had been so concerned about that first day had closed up nicely. However, the scar tissue was still bright pink against the green of his skin. He was somewhat concerned that he might be stuck looking like a watermelon for rest rest of his life.

“What did that to you?” Dib’s words were so soft that Zim barely heard them at first.

“The gash on my leg?” Zim asked, watching as Dib nodded hesitantly. “It’s from when I was trying to gain access to R&D,” Zim said, voice slightly below a whisper. “One of the Irkens I brought down was aiming for an artery. They missed, but just barely. It was bad enough that I had to give up on the smeets, but not bad enough I couldn’t still run.” He turned his head away and angrily muttered, “Like a fucking coward.”

“You’d be the bravest coward I’ve ever met,” Dib replied solemnly.

Zim bit his tongue. Anything more would just lead to a useless argument wherein Zim tried to convince everyone in the room that he was the worst person and Dib refused to entertain the notion full-stop.

They finished washing up and it wasn’t long before Dib had them both wrapped in fluffy towels, drying off in front of the space heater.

“Feeling better?” Dib asked, nuzzling against Zim and stifling a yawn. 

“Yeah … I’m still a little freaked out by how little control I have over literally everything, though,” he said sadly.

“You’re dealing with a lot,” Dib replied. “I mean, what you told me earlier … that’s terrifying. It’s a lot to process.”

Zim looked up at him, really seeing the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. “It’s wearing you down, isn’t it?” 

“What’s wearing me down?”

Zim looked away, suddenly sullen. “You know _exactly_ what … me waking you up at all hours of the night. You never being able to sleep deeply. You’re constantly on guard for anything that might set me off. How much longer until you get sick of it and leave?”

Dib held him close. “Nope, we aren’t going there. I’m right here and I’ll _always_ be right here.” He kissed the top of Zim’s head as Zim snuggled against him. “I love you so much. You’re my mate, and you told me that meant you were mine forever.”

“It does …” Zim murmured. 

“Good,” Dib said contentedly. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Zim relaxed slightly. He was still leery, but it was hard not to believe his mate.

“Come on … let’s put some pajamas on and sort the bed out,” Dib said with a yawn. “Maybe I’ll leave putting the sheets in the laundry until tomorrow. Going all the way to the basement sounds like work …”

“Put them down the laundry chute, then,” Zim said nonchalantly as he stood up.

Dib stared at him. “Down the … what?” He got up and followed Zim out into the bedroom. Zim had walked over to the window seat across the room and lifted the seat up.

“The laundry chute,” Zim said, pointing. “Drops things right into the washer.”

“You’ve been letting me go up and down to the basement all this time??” Dib said incredulously.

Zim shrugged. “I thought you liked the exercise.”

“Tricking me into hitting my step count,” Dib sighed, ruffling his antennae.

Zim went rummaging in the dresser for his favorite pair of hand-me-down Dib pajamas, pulled them on, and then helped Dib with the bed. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, but as he stole a glance at Dib’s expression, he was more than a little surprised to find that Dib didn’t seem at all bothered. 

Could this be just another part of being truly loved? Could it be that, more than just making a conscious effort not to make Zim feel bad, Dib was genuinely unbothered by the things he had to do in order to care for him?

“Everything okay?” Dib asked suddenly.

Zim realized he’d been staring down the laundry chute for the better part of a minute. “Does any part of this bother you?” he asked quietly.

Dib walked over and hugged him. “What d’you mean?”

Zim shrugged. “Taking care of me is kind of a full time job right now. I’m just wondering how much of your patience I’m wearing through.”

“You aren’t,” Dib replied simply, without missing a beat. “You said you kind of enjoyed being taken care of, right?”

“Yeah …”

“Then just sit back and enjoy it without worrying,” Dib said gently. “I’ll take care of you and it’ll be okay.”

“And if I told you that I don't want to go back to sleep in case it isn't?” Zim asked skeptically.

Dib ruffled his antennae affectionately. “Let’s go downstairs, I can make you a milkshake, and then we can just watch a movie until the sun comes up.”

“It’s like 4am … and if one of us spills something, it’s going to be a whole thing …” Zim mumbled.

Dib shrugged. “So what? We’re both already awake.”

Zim grunted noncommittally. 

“Come on … I’ll put peanut butter cups in it. Those are still your favorite, right?” Dib coaxed. Sweets were usually the fastest way to get Zim compliant. 

Zim nodded and clambered out of Dib’s lap with a sigh, taking his hand as they made their way downstairs. GIR’s spot on the couch was strangely empty, the TV dark. Dib flipped on the kitchen lights and Zim hopped up on the counter, kicking his feet as Dib collected ingredients and equipment, puttering around the kitchen.

“You know …” Zim said quietly, looking at the floor, “stupid as it is, I kinda thought this would change things …”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Dib asked, poking at the frozen brick of ice cream with a spoon.

“I kinda thought that being in a relationship with you would … would fix things. Fix me …”

“Oh … yeah, I … I don’t think that’s how this works, unfortunately,” Dib said with a sad smile. “I wish I had that sort of power. All I can offer is my undying love and affection.” He kissed Zim’s cheek.

“It’ll have to do for now,” Zim said, leaning against Dib for a moment and snickering as Dib bent the spoon at a 90 degree angle while attempting to force it into the unyielding block. “You should really just use the ice cream scoop for that.”

He slid off the counter and pulled open one of the drawers, rummaging around amongst an assortment of large knives and twist ties. A sudden blast of noise and a screech from the living room abruptly put him on the defensive. Dib whirled around just in time to see Zim reflexively throw a sizable cleaver into the living room, and watch in horror as it pinged off GIR’s head. He attempted to process the last 0.5 seconds and failed miserably.

“Heyyy, how come _I’m_ not allowed to throw knives??” GIR whined, the light of the TV casting a long shadow. He reached for the knife and Dib finally managed to shake his stupor.

“Nope, Nope, Nope!!” Dib said hurriedly as he sprinted over. “I’m taking that back. What the f—.” He quickly stopped himself. Zim had been pretty strict about not swearing in front of GIR because he’d only repeat it ad nauseam for the rest of the week. Unfortunately, Dib was angry, flustered, and swears made up 90% of his normal lexicon. “What in the h … Oh my _god._ Look. GIR. You can’t just scare the crap out of people like that.”

GIR looked crestfallen. “But it’s _funny_ …”

“Not to me, and clearly not to … Zim?”

Zim walked brusquely from the kitchen, fists at his sides, head down. Dib reached for his shoulder and Zim slapped his hand away.

Dib was taken aback by the sudden change in mood, not to mention the fact that Zim hadn’t physically retaliated against him in years. “Jesus Christ, I’m trying to be helpful, Zim!” he said, agitation creeping into his voice.

Zim continued towards the steps without breaking his stride. “Fuck both of you,” was all he said as he disappeared upstairs.

Dib stood shocked into silence, before sitting down heavily and putting his head in his hands. “A week straight of putting up with being beat to hell and barely sleeping and waiting on him hand and foot… and this is the thanks I get.”

“Fuck,” GIR said in solemn agreement.

Dib looked at the little robot who was smiling in front of him and not comprehending the situation one bit.

“You can’t jump out at him like that,” Dib said, feeling tired.

“Why?”

Dib tried to tie it back to anything GIR might actually understand. “You ever watch a really scary movie, and a monster jumps out when you least expect it?”

GIR clapped his hands. “That’s the best part!!”

_Oh boy …_

“But if that monster jumped out when you were trying to watch a different movie, or kept interrupting your favorite dreams about —.”

“Pizza??” GIR offered.

“Yeah, sure. If it kept interrupting your favorite dreams about pizza to scare you, it might not be so much fun, right?”

“Oh … Did my master leave to fight monsters?”

The rusty gears were slowly beginning to turn. Finally, Dib was getting somewhere.

“I think he ended up fighting a lot of monsters he didn’t expect to have to fight, and now he’s scared they’re going to show up everywhere.” He looked into the two glowing blue lights and wondered if any of what he said had actually made landfall. “Does that … make sense? You can’t just scare him because the first thing he’s always going to think of are those monsters. You’ve got to just … always make sure he knows it’s you and he doesn’t have to be afraid. Alright?”

“Did I make him sad?” GIR asked, with more gravity than Dib had thought possible.

“Maybe a little … just try to be more careful,” Dib said, standing up and setting a compassionate hand on GIR’s head. “Want a milkshake?” he asked, hoping he might be able to cheer at least one person up.

GIR nodded enthusiastically and Dib set about making enough for the three of them. He wasn’t so sure where Zim was at emotionally, but he hoped he’d still be able to ply his friend with sugar to cheer him up.

It was a bit disheartening to realize how far they were from the mood just hours prior, when Zim was affectionate and gentle, pressing onwards until they were entangled in each other …

And now Dib was here, in the kitchen, making milkshakes at 4am and hoping the same person who had just left with a callous “Fuck you” would still let him come back to bed. Irritation swirled noxiously in Dib’s mind. What had he even done?? GIR was the one who had spooked Zim in the first place!

He filled up three glasses, brought one to GIR, then made his way upstairs to Zim. The bedroom door was shut and Dib grumbled under his breath as he shifted the glasses around to turn the knob.

It was locked. 

“Go away!” Zim shouted, sounding like he’d been crying again.

“It’s just me, Zim.” Dib really did feel exhausted now. “Open the door, please.”

“No.”

Dib almost dropped their drinks out of pure agitation. He took a deep breath to center himself. “Come on, dude … you’ll feel better once your brain gets some sugar," he coaxed. "Just let me in. Please.”

There was a brief pause before Zim mockingly repeated what Dib had said just after Zim had stormed off. “ _A week straight of putting up with being beat to hell and barely sleeping and waiting on him hand and foot… and this is the thanks I get.”_ Zim scoffed angrily. “Is _that_ what you think, Dib? That I fucking _owe you_ for _putting up with me?_ ”

“No,” Dib said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I _do_ think it was shitty of you to swear at me and storm off out of the blue, though. I’m owed an explanation at least.”

Dib heard what sounded like Zim screaming into one of the pillows, and patiently waited it out.

“Your first instinct wasn’t to check on _me!_ It was to check on _GIR!!_ ” Zim wailed.

“I … well, _yes,_ because I know your … _idiot child_ isn’t allowed to have a fucking _meat cleaver,_ for obvious reasons!” Dib explained, irritated.

“Just fucking _go home_ , Dib,” Zim said, tone dripping with betrayal. “You don’t _love me._ You don’t _care about me_. I … I regret even _mating with you_!!”

“That’s really uncalled for,” Dib said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I just spent the last hour comforting you and holding you and cleaning you up, and you seriously think I don’t love or care about you??”

“You’re only doing it for the emotional blackmail!!”

Dib felt like he’d just swallowed ice. “I would never do that to you,” he insisted, trying to stay grounded. Butterflies of both terror and anger fluttered uncomfortably in his stomach. “Trigger put me through hell with abuse like that. Why the fuck would I turn around and inflict it on you??”

“Because we’re both _broken, Dib_ ,” Zim said, voice choked. “How did we ever think we could fix each other? We can’t function on our own … and all we’ll ever do as mates is hurt each other. Because we’re both ... fucking … _broken_!!”

Something solid made contact with the door and Dib jumped back.

“What the hell was that??” he demanded.

“Your _stupid_ phone,” Zim snapped back, muffled.

Dib came very, _very_ close to busting the door down. That was an expensive phone. He had _just_ bought it with his own money, since he wouldn’t accept a Membrane Labs phone with god only knew what sort of spyware creeping around the circuits. And Zim had — presumably — just exploded his very new, very _expensive_ piece of equipment against the other side of the door.

“The fuck did you do _that_ for??” Dib shouted, finally losing his temper.

“Illustrating a point,” Zim snarked. “Now you and your stupid, shitty phone can go be broken together, far away from me.”

“Well, _that_ wasn’t very nice because I can’t even _get it_ now, can I?” Dib said acidly. 

“Sucks to be you.”

“God. Fucking. _Dammit_ , Zim!!” Dib exploded as his last iota of patience was tested. “You want to throw a tantrum? Fine. Throw the world’s _biggest fucking tantrum_. I’ll just be out here, making myself sick on milkshakes, waiting for you to come to your damn senses.”

“Fuck off!”

“No.”

“Just … go _home,_ Dib!!”

“I _am home!!_ ” Dib screamed back.

“Take your shit and go back home to your stupid, terrible family!”

“Even if I wanted to, I _can’t_!! You’ve locked the door with my keys inside, you … absolute _dumbass_ bug!!!”

Dib suddenly heard Zim stomp across the room, floor shaking. The door whipped open and Zim made wide, wild eye contact with Dib while tossing his things down the stairwell, letting them clatter to the bottom.

“ _Leave_ ,” he hissed, before slamming the door shut.

“ _No_ ,” Dib snapped back. 

He heard Zim halt halfway across the room.

“Why,” he asked, his voice heavy with tears, “won’t you just. Fucking. _Leave me_?? Just _go,_ Dib! Quit pretending I need you! I don’t! I don’t need anyone!! Just take your things and … and …” Zim’s sobs drowned out whatever vitriolic sentence he was prepared to hurl Dib’s way next.

Dib recognized the sound of someone who had completely given up. He’d been there before, and to hear Zim crying like that completely put a damper on his anger. 

He carefully set the glasses down on the floor and tried the handle. As suspected, Zim had neglected to lock it when he slammed it shut. He carefully opened it to find Zim collapsed on the floor, face buried in his arms. Dib shut the door and padded over softly, watching Zim’s antennae twitch in his direction. He sat down and put a hand on Zim’s back, feeling more emotionally drained than he had all week.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Dib said softly as Zim’s body shook. “Drive me away, justify all the terrible things you’re telling yourself … well, it won’t work. I already promised I wouldn’t leave you and, besides … _I love you_ , Zim.”

“I’m a burden … all I’m going to do is cause you trouble,” Zim hiccuped. When Dib didn't immediately reply, Zim hunched his shoulders, sullen. “See? You aren’t even _trying_ to deny it …” His hands wrapped around the back of his head and tugged hard at his antennae.

“Hey, hey … Don’t hurt yourself like that,” Dib said, putting his hands on Zim’s. Zim whined and stroked them instead, attempting to self-soothe. Dib ran his fingers down as well, watching as Zim let go and allowed him to take over. Dib laid down beside him, head resting on his back, listening to a purr shake Zim’s small frame.

“There we go … you’re alright,” Dib said gently. “I think I can honor the fact that this _is_ difficult while still acknowledging that I love you and want to work through things,” he said, reaching out and stroking the ends of Zim’s antennae. “What you said earlier really hurt. I know you said it because _you’re_ hurting but … it still stung. I don’t want to sugar coat things. I don’t want to pretend that I’m not exhausted and worn down because then I might _really_ say something I’ll regret. I don’t want to lie to you about how I’m feeling. But also … this is a burden I want to help you shoulder because I care about you.”

Zim took a deep, shaky breath. “Tonight has just been so up-and-down,” he mumbled. “I thought mating with you was going to fix everything. I thought maybe I’d finally sleep through the night for good …”

“That’s not how this works, Zim,” Dib said sadly.

“But it did at first!” Zim insisted tearfully. “We had three nights since we started dating where I didn’t wake up in a panic! I was getting _better_!”

“It’s not a linear process.” Dib squeezed his eyes shut and planted a soft kiss on Zim’s neck. “I still wake up in a panic from dreams about Trigger breaking up with me. Most nights are fine, but some nights I still wake up screaming.”

“But you’re not dealing with all the same problems that I am,” Zim mumbled. “Yours aren’t nearly as bad.”

“You went through absolute hell, Zim,” Dib said, squeezing his eyes shut. He was sure he didn’t know the whole story yet, but what he had heard so far was horrifying. “Your trauma is still new. And … maybe comparing yourself to what you know about me isn’t the best idea. I significantly downplayed a lot of my PTSD because I kept thinking that it was _just a relationship_ and I didn’t deserve to say I had the same issues as people who had dealt with active combat. I was embarrassed and scared to rely on someone. I wish I hadn’t been, because it might have made things easier.”

He stood up and went to fetch the drinks from the landing outside the door. When he turned around, Zim was sitting upright, face damp, watching him. Dib held a glass out to him.

“Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Zim took it and Dib settled beside him, putting an arm around him. Zim tensed suspiciously, but gradually relaxed as he sipped at his drink.

“I’m not going to leave you, no matter how hard you try to prove to yourself that you’re too damaged or too unloveable or too _whatever._ So let’s agree to just … not go down that path again. Alright?”

Zim nodded and rested against him.

“I don’t want to fight about whether or not I love you. Or whether or not you love me, for that matter.”

Zim looked up at him, face still tear stained. “I don’t regret mating with you, Dib. I’m sorry I said that. And I’ll fix your phone if it’s broken. And is … is GIR alright?” he asked, voice soft and wavering.

“Yeah … I had a chat with him about not scaring that absolute shit out of you. I think he actually understood most of it.”

Zim chucked softly despite himself. “ _That_ would be a miracle. If you can do that, then I definitely promise not to try and get rid of you.”

Dib squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly attempting to stem the absolute wave of emotion that had washed over him. “Please promise either way … I don’t want to ever do this again. Just … let me love you, okay? We’ll make it work no matter what. We already made it official so … we have to. I _want_ to.”

“I guess I _did_ ask you to make it official …” Zim said softly, reaching for Dib’s hand. “And it would probably be a shame to go back on that …”

“I’m glad we agree.”

“And you make a decent milkshake.”

Dib laughed softly and put an arm around him. “So … what do you think? Should we just watch _Lilo & Stitch_ and sleep when the sun comes up?”

Zim looked him over. “You seem really exhausted, Dib. Maybe I should just try to sleep …”

He didn’t sound so sure.

"Are you feeling better about going back to sleep?" Dib asked.

Zim shrugged, then noisily sucked down the last of his milkshake. Dib took the empty glass from him, setting it on the bedside table. He stood up and offered a hand to Zim.

“At least cuddle with me for a little while?”

Zim stood up and made his way back into bed with Dib, shimmying under the blankets and curling against his chest.

“I love you so much, Zim. I care about you a ton and that means I _want_ to take care of you,” Dib insisted with soft intensity.

“But earlier you acted like I owed you something for it,” Zim said sadly.

“I’m sorry. I was just frustrated,” Dib whispered. “I can handle being punched and choked and waking up to wet sheets but the angry outbursts are hard because I don’t know what to do for you. It’s really hard not to know how to help and feeling like I’m doing things wrong …” Dib was shocked to find himself choked up. He held Zim against his chest as his breath stuttered in his throat. “I just want you to be happy. I’m sorry … I wish I was better at this.”

“You’re not doing things wrong," Zim said, resting his head heavily on Dib's shoulder. "I'm ... volatile, lately."

"And I don't know what to do about it half the time," Dib replied in moderate distress.

"Then you're already doing better than I am." Zim nuzzled his shoulder and settled in against Dib, a clear single that his word was final in this situation.

Dib massaged the base of Zim’s antennae, thoughts beginning to wander as his brain struggled to remain conscious. “I feel a little bad that it took all of this for us to finally end up together,” he admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “I feel like there’s a reality right next door to this one where we realized it way sooner and are healthy and happy and took down the empire and adopted like a hundred defective smeets.”

He felt Zim’s fingers brush his hand, before enmeshing their fingers and giving him a gentle squeeze.

“We still could, you know,” Zim said, so softly that Dib had to strain to hear. “Maybe … maybe that’s what I need. To go back. To fix things. I don’t have to take the Empire down completely. If I could just cripple them for long enough … bring the smeets home …”

Zim’s ramblings were cut short when Dib held him close, hand on the back of his head.

“Zim … please. I just got you. I don’t want to lose you …” Dib whispered. He was trying to keep the pain out of his voice and failing horribly.

“But if it works, you’ll have the _right_ Zim ... Whole. Competent. Able to take care of you the way you deserve,” Zim insisted, his voice going from wistful to bitter. “Not this broken, pathetic _husk._ Cowering every time GIR plays movies too loud, incapable of doing anything by myself, soft and weak and —” He stopped, trembling and afraid to breathe. “I’m not supposed to be like this," he finally choked out. " _I was an Invader_ ... they took everything from me ...”

Dib held Zim tightly, as if he could siphon away the pain with contact alone. “It’s okay … ” he repeated over and over, but Zim abruptly dissolved into tears regardless.

“I don’t … even … _recognize myself_ anymore!” Zim bawled. “I’m a defective, emotional mess!" He looked up at Dib, both fists clutching his shirt. "You can’t _seriously_ tell me you _prefer_ this!”

Dib reached for Zim’s antennae and stroked down the length of them as he tried to keep his breathing even. He hated himself a little for pulling out that trick, but Zim was rapidly spiraling into a nosedive Dib wasn’t sure he could pull him out of, and listening to Zim carry on that way hurt him more than he could even put into words. This was the only way he could calm Zim down and begin to comfort him. As Zim gradually transitioned from sobbing balefully to purring into his shoulder, Dib gave in to his own confusion and frustration, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. 

Of course he didn’t want Zim to be traumatized and hurting. But there was also so much he loved about this softer, more emotional Zim. It was hard not to love the way Zim insisted on being held as they faded off to sleep, hard not to appreciate the ways Zim had allowed Dib to be physically close and care for him when he was injured. They’d gained an emotional depth that had previously been lacking.

“I love you _exactly_ as you are,” Dib said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I want to be here for you, no matter what. I don’t think anything about you is wrong or broken. I still recognize you. You’re still my best friend, still the person I’ve been slowly falling for these past few years. You’re just hurting right now. All that makes me want to do is hold you closer.” He hugged Zim tightly, breath hitching. “I know what it feels like to want to get better over night. I know what it feels like to be so overwhelmed, that you’d willingly put yourself in danger because death feels like the only acceptable alternative.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and all at once he was back to last year, the night before Zim’s planned end-of-summer trip that ultimately never happened. He’d woken up from a nightmare, only to find Zim curled up, thoroughly asleep on the opposite side of the bed. He almost rolled over and attempted to fade back to nothingness, but the ache in his chest was too heavy to ignore. Instead, he carefully slid out of bed, padded down the steps, and slipped out the front door in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers.

He walked, calm yet purposeful, towards one of the busier streets a few blocks away. His brain was deathly quiet on the whole matter. Usually, when he attempted suicide, his brain was a frantic, fluttering mess of thoughts. But this time, it was as if every atom of his being had finally had enough and craved blissful, quiet oblivion.

He walked until he saw headlights in the distance, waited until they grew closer, and then —

“Do you remember what I tried to do last year?” he asked, feeling a million miles away from his physical body. His mind kept replaying the moment that Zim had snatched him out of the road, tumbling into the bushes with him and holding him as he sobbed.

“It’s not the same, Dib,” Zim mumbled.

“You’re telling me you want to go on a literal suicide mission. It’s exactly the same thing.” He buried his face in Zim’s shoulder, kissing it and breathing in Zim’s scent. “You stopped me then and I’m stopping you now. I have _exactly_ the Zim I’m meant to have. I don’t think any less of you for having been through trauma. You’re still strong and smart and brave, even if it’s hard right now. I’m never going to stop being here for you or loving you. I promise.” He stroked the back of Zim’s neck, skin velvety soft under his fingertips. “At the risk of sounding like I’m glad you went through hell — because I’m clearly not happy you were hurt so badly — I _do_ love your soft, sensitive side. I love that you actually want physical affection from me, that you want to be held in bed, that you let me wash you and care for you. I love that you’re letting me in more, and letting me be here when you need me.”

Zim nuzzled against his neck in a desperate sort of way, softly purring as Dib cradled him gently. It was hard not to just soak up all the love and affection Dib offered him. As much as he was embarrassed and upset with himself, 

“I love you, Zim,” Dib whispered. “I love you so much that being here for you feels as natural as breathing. You’re exactly who you need to be, right now. All I can hope is that I can be exactly who you need, too.”

“You are,” Zim said softly, grabbing a fistful of Dib’s shirt and using it to dry his face. “I just have to wonder … When will it _stop_ being okay for me to be needy? What if I run past the deadline for being okay again?” He looked up dolefully. “What if I’m never okay again?”

“I think you’ll eventually get to a point where things are stable, if nothing else,” Dib replied gently. “But I'm not going to put a time limit on this. It’s not like, in a year or something, I’m going to be all, ‘Okay Zim! Mourning period is over. You’re not allowed to have trauma anymore!’ That would be totally unreasonable.”

Zim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright, but are you going to lose patience with me?”

Dib sighed, resting his chin on Zim’s shoulder. “Maybe? Probably, at least once or twice.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted,” Zim said, antennae laying back.

“I can’t promise that, in a moment of weakness because I’m tired or hungry or hurting or dealing with my own shit, I won’t ever snap at you. That’s not a reasonable promise.” He stroked the end of Zim’s antenna. “But I can promise that I won’t leave you over it. I can promise that we’ll keep working through stuff, that I’ll always be beside you when you wake up, no matter what time of night or what the circumstances. Is that fair?”

Zim nodded, closing his eyes and snuggling into Dib’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna get easier,” Dib said softly.

Zim opened one eye to glance up at him, uncertain. “How can you know that?”

“Because we’re good at that,” Dib replied with a smile. “If we weren’t, we’d still be trying to beat the crap out of each other. But it’s getting easier not to fight, easier to be honest … easier to just let myself love you without worrying.”

Zim relaxed against him, purring softly when Dib gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. Really, what more could Zim ask for?

* * *

_II._

Glass clinked against metal.

“Here’s to new beginnings.”

“Here’s to never using calling myself an Invader ever again.”

The pile of old clothes went up in a flash that just about burned Dib’s eyebrows off. He jumped backwards from the blaze, trying to avoid spilling sparkling cider all over his shirt.

“How much lighter fluid did you pour on there?” he demanded as the flames leaped past the roof.

Zim shrugged and took a long sip off his root beer. “Three or four cans.”

“ _Three or four_ —?? That’s too many!!” Dib reached for Zim’s hand. “Get over here. I don’t think our graduation gowns are fireproof. Actually, I wouldn’t be shocked if they’re _designed_ to be combustible…”

Zim sat down on the grass beside Dib, pulling off his cap and gown, twirling his tassel around his finger. “Should we find out?” he asked with a grin.

Dib laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I feel like I earned these. Just over thirteen years of my life spent in K through 12, and yet I somehow made it out alive.”

Zim gave him an odd look. “Why did you do more school than you had to?”

“Didn’t make it through kindergarten the first time 'round,” Dib said, taking a sip of his cider and wrapping a gowned arm around Zim. “If you can believe it, the year we met was actually a _good_ year for me, up to that point.”

Zim snuggled in. “What’s a good year for you up to _this_ point?” he asked.

“I feel like you want me to say this one, but I _also_ feel like I’ll be minimizing your trauma if I say that,” Dib admitted nervously.

Zim sighed. “I’m almost relieved, in a way, that this happened,” he admitted. “It permanently shut the door on any chance I could be an Invader again, and it pushed us to finally admit we want to be together.”

“You weren’t _seriously_ thinking you’d actually go back to trying to take over the earth, were you??” Dib asked, sounding a bit horrified.

“It was an option, you know, if I ever got up the energy to try again,” Zim mumbled, blushing.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Dib said, rummaging around in the bag next to him before handing Zim over all the makings for s’mores. “I like this end to our foray into public education a lot better than any other way I could have seen things going.”

Zim was quiet for a moment, taking extra care to put his stick right through the center of his marshmallow. “Even though your family didn’t show up?” he finally asked, looking Dib soulfully in the eyes.

The mood was completely ruined a second later as he frantically scratched under his wig. 

“Gah!! Stupid fakey hair!!” he screeched. “Too itchy!! This is why I never put you on anymore!!” He pulled it from his head, antennae springing up, and tossed the wig into the fire, shaking his head to try and rid his skin of the horrible feeling.

Dib plucked the stick from his hands. “You’re going to put someone’s eye out doing that, you dumb bug,” he said, putting an arm around Zim’s shoulders as Zim dug around in his pockets before finally pulling out one of his knit beanies. “And yeah. After my Dad had me sent away that last time … he’s kinda been dead to me. Even if he actually remembered, I wouldn’t have wanted him to come. And as much as I wish I had a decent relationship with Gaz …” He shook his head sadly. “ _Es lo que es_. She had a rough time growing up with me.”

Zim wasn’t sure how to respond, so he gently plucked the stick from Dib’s hands and suspended his marshmallow over the fire. He certainly felt like any rough times the Membrane children had experienced were the fault of Membrane, himself. Dib’s sorry excuse for a father hadn’t even noticed that his son was dating an abusive monster last summer (let alone that he was dating full-stop), or that Dib had gone from living at home to gradually moving in with Zim. 

There was a bit of Zim that wanted to give Dib a proper family. Not in terms of providing parental units — Zim didn’t even know where he would find a pair of those — but rather, in terms of being that for someone else. Maybe multiple someones else. Say, a bunch of defective smeets.

Dib gently took the stick from Zim’s hands again as Zim looked over, confused.

“Any more and you’ll burn it. This one is perfect right now,” Dib explained, sandwiching the marshmallow between two graham crackers and some chocolate and handing it back. He smirked and booped Zim between the eyes. “This one is perfect right now, too.”

Zim took the s’more with a blush and a soft “thanks”, then shoved the whole thing in his mouth at once as he stared into the fire.

“What’s on your mind?” Dib asked, cuddling close. “You’re almost never this quiet.”

Zim shrugged, resting his head on Dib’s shoulder. “Still thinking about rescuing those smeets, I guess …”

“Zim …”

“I know, Dib. Okay?” Zim said miserably. “I _understand_ why you think it’s a bad idea. I don’t even disagree. I just think that we should keep it open as an option for later.”

Dib put a finger under Zim’s chin. “Hey … I’m not writing it off, alright? I just want to make sure we think this through.”

Zim’s irises looked golden red in the firelight, and they were the last thing Dib saw before he leaned in for a kiss. Zim chirped in surprise and kissed back, letting Dib guide him into his lap.

“Sorry … you were just looking too cute. I couldn’t resist,” Dib mumbled. Zim tasted like s’mores and smelled like fire smoke and sounded like summer in full swing. Every little piece that small pocket in time added up in such a way that Dib was certain that moment would be forever filed away in his memory, no matter how old he got or how far he travelled. More than their first horribly awkward kiss, more than the first time they made love, this moment represented the first time they were truly free to spend the rest of their lifetimes with each other. It felt like they were locked in their own private bubble, drifting away fro known time and space.

If only for a moment.

“Ohhhh! We’re playin’ with fire?”

Dib broke away as soon as he heard GIR’s little feet patter into the backyard, dropping a shocked Zim backwards into the grass. He threw himself sideways to intercept GIR before he could run straight up to the fire pit. He had a feeling that GIR’s dog suit wasn’t particularly flame resistant.

“No, GIR. We’re making s’mores,” Dib explained, setting the robot next to him. He glanced over at Zim who was still laying on his back, looking wounded, then back at GIR. He hastily shooed GIR off. “I’ll show you how in a second, but you have to find a long, straight stick for it first. Can you do that?”

GIR nodded and scampered off to the far side of the yard and Dib turned his attention back to Zim.

“You _dropped me_ ,” Zim said, clearly upset.

Remembering how poorly Zim had reacted the night prior, Dib was determined to avoid another emotional implosion. He pulled Zim back into his lap. “Sorry. My reflexes are still kind of shit.” He ran a hand up Zim’s antenna, making him immediately purr in reply.

“No fair, Dib,” he mumbled.

“Oh? I thought you liked this.”

“You’re weaponizing it for … for …” Zim’s mouth went slack, eyelids fluttering and then resting closed.

Dib kissed his forehead. “I'm just averting emotional fallout. I didn’t mean to drop you like that. I won’t excuse myself; that was my fault.” He slowly ran his hand down behind Zim’s head and waited for Zim to break from the spell.

Zim’s eyes slowly refocused on Dib’s face. “What am I supposed to say to that?” he asked softly.

“That you forgive me?” Dib said hopefully.

Zim sighed and snuggled against him. “Alright. Fine. I forgive you for dropping me on my back. But only because I know you’ll put me back into a trance if I sulk about it. You jerk.”

“I’ll take it,” Dib replied with a laugh.

They sat beside the fire, teaching an impatient GIR how to toast the perfect marshmallow, reminiscing, and letting the soft songs of summer fill in quiet spaces, until the only things left at the bottom of the pit were crackling embers that didn’t quite keep the bugs at bay.

“Ready to leave all this behind for a little while?” Zim asked, tilting his head to look upwards at Dib. This trip was already long overdue and he was eager for a change in scenery.

“Maybe even a long while,” Dib replied. “Where have you got in mind?”

“Far from here, and far from Irken-controlled space,” Zim said with a smile, getting to his feet. “Other than that, it’s a surprise.”

They let GIR do the honours of hosing down the fire — with heavy guidance — before collecting their things and heading back towards the house. As they wandered back inside, Zim stopped in the doorway and stole one last glance out into the night. There was nothing left to suggest that, just an hour earlier, a pile of bright magenta uniforms had sat where the smoldering remains of the fire were now. 

No more dreams of being an Invader. 

Maybe someday, there’d be no more nightmares about it, either.

Zim turned to follow his mate upstairs to their waiting ship, content that his last ties to Irk and his old life as an Invader were now nothing more than ash on the breeze, disappearing quietly into the dark of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decade later, Zim finally gets to put some of his demons to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated over whether or not to give this an epilogue, but I really wanted Zim to be able to get some closure.

_So calm down, the sun is gonna rise_   
_Don't cover your eyes_   
_Let the light in_   
_Open up the sky_   
_Wait for everything to stop spinning_

\- Opus Orange, [_Calm Down_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tZKwJQZcUE)

* * *

Through the window of the ship, a darkened planet was fast approaching. If Zim squinted, he could just about make out the massive spire that sprung like a needle from the planet’s surface, well out above the atmosphere. Zim’s breath caught in his throat.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle this?”

A gentle hand on Zim’s shoulder roused him from the blood-tinged memory of the last time he’d set eyes on the Spire of Judgment. In the last decade, his flashbacks had faded until they were more of a whisper than a shout, but being back here had started to make his old demons begin grumbling again and it was getting harder and harder to keep his mind in the present.

“You don’t have to, okay? Lard Nar said they can send someone else from the Resisty in, have the smeets delivered to us from a safe distance away from the planet —.”

“He also said he’d already shut this whole sector down, though, didn’t he?” Zim asked, cutting Dib off without even glancing at him.

“As of about an hour ago, yeah,” Dib replied, looking just as concerned about him now as he had a decade ago.

Part of that was, no doubt, courtesy of the PAK Zim had insisted on installing the first year they were together. It kept all of Dib looking much the same way he had ten years prior. He was approaching thirty, but every semester without fail, one of his students would ask why they were being taught by the undergraduate TA. At this point, Dib took a perverse sense of pleasure in watching them grapple with the revelation that he had three PhD’s to his name.

“If there’s even anybody left, I think we can handle them. I’m taking us in for the descent,” Zim said, strapping himself into the pilot’s seat and leaving Dib with little else to do but strap in beside him and give him a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

The ship veered away from Judgmentia and its shadowy Spire. Every planet in this system had gone dark, continuing their quiet orbits like the shambling corpses of moths, slowly falling into the sickly light of an Irken star. Resisty ships were stationed throughout, and the radio blipped with requests for their call sign, then confirmation that they were cleared every time they passed one. Despite the business of the airwaves, the closer they got to their destination, the more Dib felt like he was stepping into a particularly cursed graveyard. By the time they touched down on the abandoned landing pad, he was thoroughly unsettled.

“The air is breathable, but Lard Nar said you might still want your helmet on,” Zim said, pulling on his own as they stepped towards the door.

Dib was about to ask why, but as soon as the door swung open, Dib was smacked in the face with the smell of death. He gagged, adrenaline flooding his veins as some long-dormant genetic memory was triggered. Something horrific had happened here, and his brain was screaming at him to turn tail and leave.

His helmet clicked into place and Zim was suddenly holding his hands.

“Eyes on me, Dib. Don’t get sick in there or you’re going to be _really_ miserable. Follow me … in … and out. Good boy. Let’s do it again …”

Dib focused everything he had on Zim’s voice and following his instructions, but something at the edge of his vision had begun to come into focus as his eyes adapted to the darkness …

“On me, Dib. Come on.”

His eyes snapped back to Zim’s concerned face.

“There we go. Good job.”

Dib’s body buzzed as his stomach slowly settled and he was no longer in danger of hyperventilating.

“We’re going in slowly, but I need you to just look at where we’re going, okay?” Zim asked gently.

“Shouldn’t I be looking out for you?” Dib asked, feeling useless.

Zim shook his head. “I’m not scared of a few dead Irkens.”

“I just don’t want anything to set you off. I know the last time you were here …” Dib trailed off, face concerned.

“I’ll be okay this time,” Zim said confidently, taking his hand. “I’ve got you with me, now.”

They slowly made their way into the main R&D building. The flickering lights and lonely, cavernous hallways felt to Dib like something out of a horror game, casting the entire situation in a surreal light. The fact that equipment had been abandoned in a hurry didn’t help.

According to everything Larr Nar has told them on the way over, the Empire had attempted to fight back before abruptly realizing they were at a disadvantage. The Massive, its armada, and the active Invaders were busy being held up in a revolt that had become an all-out war that now spanned seven sectors. There was an attempt to retreat and abandon this star system to the Resisty and cut their losses, but the conflict reached a fever pitch before most of the Irkens could even find a suitable vehicle for evacuation. Some had ended up being taken as prisoners of war. The rest had been unceremoniously executed on the spot.

A sudden flickering in his peripheral caught Dib’s attention, but before he could even warn Zim, he was tossed back against the wall. He watched in horror as two sharp PAK legs reared above Zim’s head, but Zim easily caught them and snapped them off, driving them into the hostless PAK that had been dragging itself towards them. Dib watched as the PAK’s lights flickered desperately, before fading out for the last time.

Zim stood and fetched Dib, taking him around the waist.

“Do you need to turn back?” he asked his trembling human.

Dib shook his head. “No … I just … how …?”

“It was looking for a new host before its ten minutes were up,” Zim said gravely as he lead Dib further down the corridor. “Must have been desperate. That was probably the sort of Irken that would have used me as a footstool back at the Academy.”

Although Zim had covered it with a flippant scoff, Dib caught the slight tremble in his voice and put an arms around his waist.

They continued on in silence, Zim leading them further and further into the bowels of the complex until Dib was thoroughly disoriented. He was about to ask Zim if they could stop for a break, when they finally came to an abrupt halt outside of a large reinforced door at the end of a T junction. Zim used a PAK leg to pry the housing off the controls and set to work rewiring things until the lights finally came back on.

“You couldn’t have done that sooner??” Dib asked, aggravation creeping into his voice.

“I had to make sure it was genuinely clear before I went alerting any survivors to our presence,” Zim said, but his tone sounded distant and Dib felt almost immediately embarrassed for having snapped at him.

Zim either hadn’t processed Dib’s initial irritation and subsequent regret, or else he didn’t particularly care. He felt at once anxious and distant as he disentangled the bundle of wires, quickly locating the two he needed. The second he touched them together, a buzzer sounded and the door creaked open. Slowly, a sterile room came into view, devoid of anything except piles of blankets on the floor, and tiny, trembling green bodies in the furthest corner. They were pressed in so closely to one another that it was hard to tell where one smeet ended and the other began.

Dib took a step forward but Zim grabbed his arm, vigorously shaking his head.

“Can you hear that?” Zim asked, voice soft and breathy.

Dib strained his ears, listening for anything beyond the hum of electricity through the building, but could only shrug helplessly.

What Zim’s antennae were picking up was the warning cry of terrified smeets. He wasn’t sure what was tearing him up the most; the fact that no recognizable, comforting parent figure was coming to soothe them, or the fact that none ever had.

Zim slowly sunk to the ground, pulling Dib down with him. He removed his helmet and did his best to look as non-threatening as possible.

“It’s okay. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore. You’re safe with us,” Zim promised gently.

A dozen pairs of eyes swiveled towards him, watching leerily even as their cries grew quiet.

“I’m Zim, and this is my friend Dib. We’re here with the Resisty to rescue you.”

“Liar.”

The defiant squeak caught Zim off-guard and he searched the crowd for its owner.

“Zim is _dead_ ,” said a tiny smeet with green eyes, so short that she’d poked her head around another smeet’s waist.

Zim couldn’t help but look himself over, squeezing Dib’s hand as he confirmed that he was very much _not_ dead.

“Banished, sure. Sentenced to death … yeah, maybe. But I’ve been living in exile ever since I was officially found to be Defective. I’ve been about as far as you can get from ‘dead’.”

A dozen smeets looked at each other, uncertain.

“What’s that?” asked one, pointing towards Dib.

“My mate. From Earth,” Zim replied, trying to stay patient. Things were certainly not going the way he’d scripted in his head. He’d sort of assumed he’d be hailed an immediate hero. Not grilled like an intruder.

The green-eyes smeet made her way over suspiciously, tripping every few steps on the long medical gown she was dressed in, until she was close enough to Zim to properly smell him.

Her antennae twitched as Dib gave Zim a bewildered look.

“My scent is probably still in the database, somewhere,” Zim murmured. “Doesn’t matter that I’ve been on earth for so long. To an Irken, I still smell like Zim.” He held out a hand to the smeet. “Are you convinced yet?”

She nodded, still hanging back slightly.

“You can trust me,” Zim said gently. “I’m just like you. Defective. Mistreated. Thrown away. But away from the Irken empire … you can have a life. You can have us, if you want.” He nudged Dib in the ribs. “Dib’s a big softie. He’ll love every one of you. And I will, too.”

The green-eyes smeet took a cautious step forward and Zim tentatively reached out to pick her up. She didn’t resist as he held her against his chest and very gently stroked her antennae. They felt like silk strands between his fingers and as she purred in response, tears sprung to Zim’s eyes. He realized that this was likely the first time the smeet had ever experienced positive physical contact. She clung to the front of his space suit and he wrapped his arms around her. He wished someone had been there to tell him everything would be okay when he was that small.

The other smeets, reassured by the reciprocal purring that reverberated around the room, began to make their way over, until there were so many that they were flowing out of Zim’s lap and into Dib’s. Without missing a beat, Dib smothered them with affection, hugging and nuzzling them.

“You’re okay now … I’m taking you back with me,” Zim murmured, juggling as many smeets as he could get his arms around. “No one will ever hurt you again. Everything is going to be alright now.”

Despite all of the nightmares that told him returning to R&D would end in tragedy, he had persevered. More than that, he had his Dib, he had the respect of the Resisty crew, and he had twelve tiny Irkens who were just as full of love and affection as he was. He was surrounded by the best his civilization had to offer, even if his civilization had been too emotionally bankrupt to realize it.

“It’s all going to be alright,” he whispered.

As the purring, snuggling, affection-hungry crowd bowled him over backwards, Zim hoped that things might finally, _permanently_ , be alright for him, too.

-𝓯𝓲𝓷-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some day I want to expand on the events leading up to this and how the fuck they manage to hold a family of a dozen+ together.  
> For now, though, I'm content to let Zim have his peace and let this story come to rest. Even though I'm going to _really_ miss writing this very soft Zim. At least this frees me up to write something new.


End file.
